


The Moments In Between

by dralafas



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:06:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 79,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2710019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralafas/pseuds/dralafas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tales of Inquisitor Lavellan's conquests, adventures, and her penchant for dragon-slaying have spread throughout Thedas, her legacy growing with each passing day. Yet few knew her as an individual - knew about how she stole the moments in between her travels and battles to help her friends, decide on how to deal with her enemies - and also figure out how to navigate the relationship growing between her and a certain ex-templar.</p>
<p>A series of interconnected moments in time centered around the relationship between the Inquisitor and the Commander of the Inquisition.</p>
<p>(Currently going through revision! Lots of new chapters popping up where you least expect them, lots of chapters suddenly changing! They'll be marked with "NEW" or "UPDATED".)</p>
<p>AUTHORS NOTE: I didn't want to make a chapter so here this is - this story is currently in hiatus but only because I just got out of a 5+ yr relationship and I've been moving house and getting my life together. Once that is done (and I actually feel up to romantic stuff) I'll start writing again. Sorry about the delays everyone, I'll try to get this train running asap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

Hundreds of people were dead. The sky was torn open in a swirling mass of green, a horde of demons falling from the heavens.

Ellana opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her small cabin in Haven, her lips pressed into a thin line as she contemplated the strange directions her life was taking. Since the moment she first awoke in this small bed after her initial attempt to close the Breach, eyes and whispers followed her every move, judging each breath she took. Yet, it felt different now than the first time she had awoken to find her world turned upside down, chained like an animal with swords pressed against her throat.

The first time, the whispers were in anger, hot and accusing against her ears as she felt their stares caressing her with all the love of a sharp dagger threatening to be thrust into her back.

But now - now, the whispers were full of shock and awe, speaking of 'heralds' and of 'Andraste' with a reverence that she only now understood.

But then? Then, as she had awoken to a frightened servant girl stammering at her mere presence, she chose to ignore the whispers. She had held her head high, striding through the streets of Haven as if the entire town was not standing on the sides of the streets and watching her every move despite their lowered gazes, and she tried to make her way to something, anything familiar.

That was how she had found herself walking beside Cassandra yet again, thankfully without shackles chafing against her wrists. All she had wanted was a good night's rest, rather than the paltry few hours she had managed to steal after collapsing at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. After trekking through cold mountains and using all of her energy to try to close the hole in the sky, she felt as if she earned at least the right to sleep. But Cassandra was insistent that she meet the leaders of the Inquisition, and Ellana was in no position to refuse despite her reservations. She was now no stranger to scrutiny, but she had no wish to be examined like a pretty bird in a gilded cage by those who sought only to use her. To make matters worse, her stomach had begun to tell her quite violently that it was ready for its next meal while simultaneously clenching in nervousness; but she could not stop and run, and so she continued to walk with Cassandra to what she had dubbed the 'war room.'

Somehow, the name had given her little comfort.

Cassandra opened the door to the war room and Ellana had stepped through first, trying to look confident and tall - and sure that she was failing miserably on both accounts. She was already small for an elf, but in this room with the massive table full of strategic markers, she felt like a gnat. The table delineated quite clearly the difference between her and the three figures that stood on the other side, and the nervousness crawled up from her belly into her throat and swam in her insides restlessly. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before standing straight and looking defiant.

She was of clan Lavellan, and she would not bow or falter; especially not in front of shemlen.

Her eyes swept over the three leaders, taking note of their features. A hooded woman with red hair that framed her thin face, her hands clasped behind her back as she coolly evaluated her - her face revealing nothing but her eyes cold and calculating. Leliana, she remembered. Another woman wearing clothes made of the finest silks, her tanned skin contrasting against the loud yellows and blues of her outfit; yet despite her finery, her face held a polite smile that actually met her eyes.

And then her eyes shifted to meet his and her mouth went dry, an electricity running through her fingertips and to her toes. His eyes, sharp and the color of warm honey, bore into hers and appraised her wordlessly, evaluating her every move. He was a tall man (but weren't all shemlen tall, compared to she?) whose armor was partially covered by burgundy-colored cloths draped around him, a mantle of red and black fur covering his shoulders. His hands rested on the pommel of his sword, standing as if ready to fight at the slightest provocation. But by the Creators, was he handsome - slightly curled blonde hair pulled back from his face, a faded but jagged scar on the right side of his lip that snaked up part of his cheek. His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, a quirking of the scarred side of his face that made her heart race and unthinkingly bite her bottom lip.

She was never more thankful to Cassandra than when she begin the introductions.

"May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition forces," Cassandra began, nodding to the man in the middle.

The Commander, now properly introduced, looked down and let out a soft sigh at her words before meeting her eyes once again. "Such as they are - we lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through."

Ellana tried not to flush under his gaze and nodded solemnly in recognition of his statement. She suddenly felt a pang of regret at all of the lives that had been lost - had she made the correct decision by trying to save the scouts in the pass?

But Cassandra gave her little time for regret, quickly moving on and continuing to introduce the others. She nodded to the woman in blue and yellow silks. "This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat."

"Andaran atish'an," Josephine beamed, bowing her head slightly to Ellana.

"You know Elven?" Ellana sputtered, her eyes wide in confusion. She had not expected to hear the words of her people in Haven - and especially not from a shemlen.

"You just heard the entirety of it, I'm afraid," Josephine apologized, her quill returning to her papers with a rueful smile. Ellana managed a smile back, appreciating the gesture but not feeling any more at ease. She shifted her feet, turning her head to the last person on the other side of the room.

"And of course you know Sister Leliana," Cassandra continued, her eyes shifting towards the hooded woman. Ellana nodded in recognition - she had seen the Sister when she first awoke in the tent in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, and then again at the Temple. She had been the one to restrain Cassandra from trying to rough her up, and Ellana was very grateful.

"My position here involves a degree of..." Leliana began, only to be interrupted by the Seeker.

"She is our spymaster," Cassandra revealed bluntly, glancing to Ellana to ensure she knew just what that entailed. Ellana shrugged imperceptibly; she had an idea.

"Yes," Leliana muttered irritably, crossing her arms as she leveled a glare at the Seeker. "Tactfully put, Cassandra."

Ellana barely managed to get out a 'pleased to meet you' before the others delved into an argument about whether to try to gain the alliance of the templars or mages. She followed the conversation as best as she could, her fatigue causing the words to pass through her without actually grasping them. When Cullen mentioned that he used to be a templar, however, she had blinked in surprise, suddenly finding herself more able to focus on the conversation. Ellana scrutinized him more carefully; as one of the People, her interactions with the Chantry and their templars were few and far in between. But even she, a member of a Dalish clan who avoided contact for years at a time, had heard the tales of their cruelty to mages.

The events of the Conclave did little to prove those stories wrong.

She glanced between the impassioned face of the Commander and the Seeker as he argued his position, and distantly mused what kind of templar he was. Was he cruel, like the stories she had heard whispered in the dark? Taking advantage of their power to take the virtue of their charges and ruling over their every move with an iron fist? Or was he more like a champion of the innocent, protecting all he could, like from the children's tales?

Or perhaps he was but a man, something in between but just as dangerous as the extremes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Josephine as the words 'herald of Andraste' fell from her lips. Ellana started - suddenly the whispers of the townsfolk coalesced into sharp clarity. "I am not a herald of your Andraste," she spat vehemently, feeling almost insulted by the title as her hands unconsciously balled into fists. The three advisors and Cassandra shifted their attention to her warily, and she then could not stop herself from flushing in both embarrassment and anger. She muttered an Elvish curse to herself before she slowly unclenched her fists. "I can see why your Chantry would be upset by this comparison," she said slowly, trying to lighten the mood.

Cullen almost snorted, shifting his weight to his other foot in relief at her change in demeanor. "An understatement, if I ever heard one."

At his words, Leliana switched the subject as deftly as she could. "There is something you can do - a Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you."

What did she say in reply? She couldn't remember. Ellana found much of the meeting was a blur in her mind, her distracted gaze always shifting towards the Commander in front of her. She tried not to look; Creators, did she try not to look at him, to admire his features, because she was not some silly lovesick da'len mooning over a boy. But her eyes refused to listen to her brain, and each time she greedily drank in the sight of him from the corners of her eyes until she realized what she was doing and forced herself to look at the ceiling, the floor, the mote of dust drifting through the air. Anything but him.

She remembered speaking, agreeing, saying things - but the words were now lost to her as she laid in her bed, her cold palms pressed against her blushing cheeks as she thought of the shemlen man. The ways his eyes furrowed in disagreement, the curl of his lip when she smiled at her, the way he moved his arms when he spoke, deliberate and slow.

Hundreds of people dead. The sky torn open in a swirling mass of green. A horde of demons falling from the heavens. But all she could think about right now was the way his gaze set her skin aflame, her blood racing hot and erratic in her veins.

She flipped onto her stomach in frustration, burying her face into her pillow with a ragged breath. She had found men handsome before, but this instant attraction was unnatural to her, especially with a shemlen whose features lacked the grace and litheness of her people. A shemlen who was more than a head taller than her, with the sleek musculature of a trained fighter. A shemlen whose hands looked like they could span the whole of her waist, dig his fingers into the flesh of her hips as he pulled her close and pressed a searing kiss to her lips.

Shit.

Her fingers gripped the pillow tighter as she tried to entomb herself within the soft sheets, a vain attempt to purge the images from her mind.

Shemlen. Templar. Commander of the Inquisition, a holy force formed from the fury of a Chantry that had once ruined her people and drove them from their homeland. Probably drowned kittens and mabari pups for fun, laughing gleefully all the while.

Honey colored eyes that threatened to swallow her whole.

Fenedhis!

She was in so much trouble.


	2. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen realizes why he was staring.

"Herald -" Cassandra began, frowning when she looked behind her to see that Ellana had already disappeared. "How did she..?"

Cullen had watched in concern as the Herald rushed out of the war room as quickly as possible at the conclusion of the meeting. She had murmured something quietly - he had assumed it was a farewell, for he had nodded to her in response - before she snuck to the door, opening it barely a sliver before slipping through. Her face had been flushed a soft pink as if from embarrassment, and he was afraid that they had somehow offended her; he had no notion of Dalish customs. 

Cassandra grimaced slightly before speaking a few words to Leliana, nodding to both him and Josephine in farewell after the exchange. It had all but confirmed to him that something was amiss, but Cassandra's expression, though stern, gave nothing away. When the Seeker closed the door behind her, Leliana giggled into her gloved hand. Cullen raised a brow at her laughter, unused to seeing a lighter side to the spymaster after the death of the Divine. Leliana remembered herself quickly, however, and tried to hide her laughs behind a cough. "Is something funny?" He asked, giving her a curious sideways glance.

"Oh, nothing," Leliana replied, her Orlesian lilt doing nothing to hide her amusement. She placed a hand on her chin thoughtfully for a moment before she turned to Cullen, a mysterious smile on her face. "What do you think of our Herald, Commander?"

Josephine paused in her writing and glanced over at Leliana with a slightly confused expression at the directness of her query. Leliana answered her unspoken question with a quirked brow and a significant glance at the space Ellana had been standing, before shifting her gaze to Cullen. Josephine's eyes widened slightly in comprehension before she schooled her features, clearing her throat lightly before continuing to serenely write notes on her ledger.

Cullen, completely oblivious to this exchange, considered for a moment before he answered. "I have not seen her on the field - but I suspect she must know how to use that bow if she survived the pass. I pray that her mark is enough."

Leliana felt the distinct urge to roll her eyes at the man. Could he not be all business for two seconds? He could not have missed the girl's flush, her inability to look away from him. And she did not miss the way that Cullen had stared at Ellana when he thought that no one was looking, his eyes appraising in a way that she knew was not entirely clinical. Her voice became a few degrees colder and tinged with annoyance as she regarded the Commander. "I see. I must get back to my duties. Good evening, Commander."

All levity gone, Leliana departed from the room gracefully, leaving Cullen behind to stew in confusion at the sudden downturn of her mood. He turned to Josephine, his brows furrowed. "What was that about?"

Josephine gave only a delicate shrug of her shoulders in answer, her smile almost saccharine. He was starting to hate her diplomatic smiles, the ones she only gave him when she realized she knew something he didn't. "I have no idea, Commander. Perhaps you should speak to the Herald about it?"

"Speak to the Herald?" Cullen repeated back to her, and Josephine had to resist the urge to smile even wider. His face had begun to turn just the slightest shade of pink, and his mouth had nearly fallen open in surprise at her suggestion. So Leliana was right. No wonder she had been annoyed - she did so hate it when people did not rise to her bait. She would have to thank her later for the information, though; this was fun.

He cleared his throat then, looking serious once more. "Whatever for?"

"Commander, were you not paying attention?" Josephine teased, unable to completely mask the playfulness in her voice. "She seemed very interested in the... state of the troops." 

Cullen was not convinced, and the glower she received in response was proof enough. "The state of the troops? She saw them herself; they're in a sorry state after our assault on the Breach."

His words only bought him another sickeningly sweet smile. If the Ambassador was any other person, he would have stood over her and glared as menacingly as he could until she gave him the real explanation. But since she was indeed Josephine, he only sighed noisily and leaned onto the war table, ignoring her ill-disguised laugh as he surveyed the pieces scattered across the map of Thedas.

He was still staring at the map in deep contemplation when Josephine took her leave. She bid him farewell as she left, but he waved her off dismissively, the low hum in his throat her only indication that he was simply thinking deeply, not upset with her.

Lavellan. Leliana's initial report had said very little about the Herald or her clan; they had not even realized that she was Dalish when she had first stepped out of the Fade. Her face was bare of the tattoos that her people were infamous for - though, to be fair, he had no idea at what age the elves received them - and her clothes and armor had been of human make, most likely so that she could blend in.

They had assumed she was a mercenary, hired to keep the peace at the Conclave. But then they had found the letters in her pocket, now waterlogged but once folded crisply. The ink had begun to run on the pages, but they were still legible, written in a messy scrawl and detailing the events of the Conclave. The letters were addressed to a Keeper Deshanna of Clan Lavellan, a Dalish clan that mostly roamed hidden in the forests of the northern Free Marches. At least, that was what Leliana's contacts had said. Secretive and very deeply set into the old ways, the clan avoided all contact except for some large Dalish meeting every ten years or so.

How the clan had heard of the Conclave was a mystery unto itself - that one of their own would be sent to spy on a mostly human affair was almost unthinkable. But here she was, and he was unsure of how to deal with her, especially now that Leliana and Josephine seemed to know something that he did not. He sighed deeply and lifted himself from leaning on the table, resolving to speak to the Herald and figure out what exactly was going on.

He exited the warmth of the chantry to instantly meet brisk mountain winds, shuddering slightly at the chill. He strode through the town, nodding in recognition to the people who greeted him as he walked down the stone steps and to the cabin that was assigned to her. He took in a steadying breath before knocking hesitantly on the door, shifting nervously on his feet as he waited. When there was no answer or noise beyond the door after a few heartbeats, he moved to knock again, but blinked in surprise when the door suddenly opened wildly. He felt his heartbeat race when he saw her, and he froze for a moment, unable to stop staring.

"Would you people let me sleep for five minutes before you ask me to save the world again?" Ellana began angrily, wincing at the light that streamed through the doorway and blinded her. Cullen slowly lowered his raised hand down towards his sides, his eyes wide at her vitriol. When Ellana focused on who was in front of her, she gulped and began to stutter, her hand tightening against the wood. He was the last person that she had expected to find at her door. "Er - um... C-Commander!"

"I'm - sorry to disturb you," he said carefully. Now that a large table did not separate them, he could see the dark circles under her eyes and her almost sickly pallor. Her hair was disheveled as if she had just awoken from sleep, and her clothes were wrinkled as well. Ellana's fingers raked through her ebony locks when she noticed his scrutiny, trying to make herself look presentable. After a moment she gave up with a frustrated grumble, and he felt a little guilty for interrupting her obviously much needed rest. "I was told there was something we must discuss."

"Can it wait?" Her voice was sharp and high, and she cleared her throat, modulating her tone to something softer. "Ah, I'm sorry. I haven't slept at all and it's making me snap at everything."

He blinked at her, utterly flabbergasted by her fatigue. "But you've been asleep for two days."

"What?" She exclaimed immediately, her expression morphing into one of shock. "But - but it just seems like I tried to close the Breach hours ago. And I'm still so tired. How could I have slept for that long?"

He suddenly remembered the elven apostate's words when the Inquisiton had dragged Ellana's form back to Haven and she had continued to sleep for more than a day. "Solas mentioned that the attempt took much of your energy. He kept watch over you to make sure you didn't die." When he realized what he had said, he cringed, noticing the way that Ellana's face had morphed from surprise to horror. "Um, er - not that you were in great risk of dying. He said something about the mark, and - it was just a, um... precaution."

"Oh," she said dumbly, relief flooding into her face as she stared up at him. "Um - that was uh, nice? Of him?"

They both stared at each other awkwardly. Ellana was still halfway hidden behind the door to her cabin, her hands grasping the wood as it were a shield. Cullen suddenly found himself at a loss, and he shifted nervously between his feet once more before he cleared his throat, focusing on a point somewhere above her shoulder. "Perhaps this is a bad time."

"Perhaps?" Ellana snorted, finally moving herself fully in front of the door as her voice dripped with annoyance. "I'm tired and irritable - you already woke me up, you might as well ask me what you came to ask."

"Ah, right," he replied, his hand coming up to rub his neck. Maker's breath, he was already feeling nervous around her. Despite her slightly mussed hair, her glare seemed two steps from terrifying. He found himself staring at the curve of her lip before he caught himself, focusing back on her displeased stare. "I - the way you left the meeting. I was wondering if - if there was something we said, or did..."

His words trailed off and he looked at her expectantly. What he didn't expect was her face to turn violently pink, and she suddenly found the ground very interesting. "Everything is fine!" she almost squeaked. "Just - uh... tired. Very tired. Can't think straight."

Her sudden change in demeanor caught him off guard, and he frowned in concern. "If something is bothering you -"

She shook her head violently, her hair flying around her in her vigor. "Nope! I'm all flowers and butterflies. Except for my lack of sleep. Which I really need. Could we discuss this later? So I can sleep?"

He frowned slightly as she seemed to avoid his question, nodding in agreement to prevent causing her any more discomfort. "Of course," he answered, searching her face for any indication of what she was truly feeling.

When he continued to stand in front of her, she blinked at him and slowly slipped back behind the door. "Good evening?"

"Oh," he started, suddenly realizing that was his cue to leave. "Right. Ah - excuse me."

He stepped back from the threshold and watched as she slowly closed the door with a soft click. "Maker's breath," he muttered to himself, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as he stalked back to the warmth of the chantry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cullen. Stuttering is the least of your worries now.


	3. Moth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana is a mystery.

He felt drawn to her like a moth to flame, and he couldn't quite explain why.

Cullen tried to understand what made him cast his eye upon the Herald. He could not deny that she was beautiful, but he never considered himself to be a shallow man; he appreciated the beauty of the fairer sex, of course, but for the most part never more than as a distant admirer. He was not one to wax poetic on a woman's features, more than content to simply look and quietly enjoy what the Maker had formed with his careful hands. He rarely had time for much else, anyways.

But the Herald was... different. She was all flashing eyes and unfriendly scowls to those who crossed her path, a wild animal stuck in a cage and snarling as it backed itself into a corner. He tried to understand her situation; a Dalish elf, separated from her clan, her only family, and thrust into the scrutiny of the entirety of Thedas due to an incredible series of events that labeled her the herald of the Maker's beloved. The Dalish, if he remembered correctly, were slow to extend their trust even to other elves. An entire Inquisition full of humans, a product of the Chantry manned by those who would willingly lay down their lives in the name of Andraste while singing the Chant of Light? He couldn't even begin to fathom what she was feeling.

She was polite enough to him, he supposed - and she seemed to hold a deep respect for Leliana. But he had a feeling that there was more depth to her seeming reticence with the others around her. He noticed many small things - she would often speak quietly to Solas, despite her obvious displeasure as she crossed her arms and put on an expression eerily reminiscent of a child sucking on a lemon. She would refuse to let the Elven servants - or any servant, really - wait on her, often gently ushering them out of her small room when they stopped by to give her assistance. She would avoid everyone as much as possible, often taking long walks and disappearing into the forests around the lake of Haven. She would skip meals - he still didn't know where she was getting food from - and she would eschew any attempts at friendship with a sharp glance and a dismissive comment.

But none of these added up to something he could understand, so he continued to watch her, trying to convince himself that he was not paying attention to her just because of his inexplicable and growing attraction to her. She was the Herald, he would tell himself, and she needed to be able to hold up to the responsibilities of her station. He knew Leliana's spies kept their eyes on her in case she would bolt, for some reason he knew she would never actually test the chains that bound her to the Inquisition.

So when he saw her sitting on the walls of Haven, looking forlorn and staring out contemplatively into the horizon at the Breach, he knew not why he found himself walking and settling down beside her, watching the clouds silently with her. She had tensed at his approach, refusing to look at him or acknowledge his presence, but still ready to fight at the slightest provocation. When he just sat beside her wordlessly, she slowly relaxed, managing to enjoy his company in companionable silence.

But she was the first to break the quiet, a level gaze set upon him as she considered him. "Can I assist you, Commander?"

He didn't know how to reply to her; he had no reason to be here, no reason to be sitting next to her, his legs dangling off the walls and watching the skies with her. No reason for his heart to be racing in his chest as he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. His mouth opened and he found that he had no control over the words that fell out, all of his observations coalescing into a single phrase. "This must be overwhelming for you."

He regretted the presumption as soon as it left his mouth, and was expecting another one of her patent scowls, a rejection as she snapped that she was completely fine and didn't need his consideration. He wasn't expecting the way that her eyes softened at him before she directed her gaze back to the horizon, no sign of the sarcastic retort that would have cut him into ribbons.

"Yes," she admitted with no little difficulty, the word escaping her lips so softly that he had to strain to hear. "I am but an elf, and despite... ah, I just find myself missing home. I tried to find it here in the forests, but it's too different - too cold, the trees too sparse. I can find nothing to tether me here."

He had no idea what she meant by tethering, and he racked his brain for any meaningful advice. "Perhaps you could speak to Solas?"

She laughed then, a harsh sound that told him he had not quite said the right thing. "Solas may look the elf, but he - he is different. It's hard to explain."

He considered her carefully, then. He may not be an elf, but he did know what it meant to leave home and find oneself in a place completely foreign... even if he had been the one who had begged and pleaded to be taken there. "I have learned that home is what you make of it. When I first left, I missed my family terribly - but I found duty a great companion. You have been given a greater purpose; perhaps if you let it guide you, you will find your path."

She sighed then, her fingers tightening around her tunic, the leather pliant under her hands. "I have been trying, but it is - difficult. It is hard to see the way that these people look at me, as if at the snap of my fingers the skies will close and all will be well. It's even harder to know that without this mark, I would be less than nothing to them."

He opened his mouth, but had no idea what to say to comfort her. He had not seen her fight, had not seen her lead - she was mostly a mystery to him, an unopened box, and he had no idea what would happen when he tore open the contents. "You will prove yourself," he found himself saying, and he was surprised to find that he meant it. "You did not survive the Fade for no reason."

She smiled then, and he was amazed to see the way that it transformed her face, a gentler side of her that he wished he could see more often. "You seem quite confident of that, Commander," she said lightly, turning her face to look at him directly.

He had no words for that, turning his eyes to the Breach once more. He watched the clouds swirling around the broken sky before he found his answer. "I believe that the - I am a man of faith," he said, cringing when he almost spoke of the Maker. She politely ignored his near misstep, saying nothing in reply. "I do not know what is in store for us, but we cannot let the world turn to chaos. I believe our faith will see us through - and for that, I must place it in you."

"I am unsure if faith alone will save us," she said wryly. "The Breach seems awfully stubborn to just be prayed away."

"Of course not," he snorted in reply, shaking his head. "We will need an army and no small number of alliances to see this through. But faith does not hurt. I must believe you can do this - and you must as well."

She let out a breath, trying to let some of the tension bleed out of her. "You are right. I need to - need to stop searching for something that I wont be able to find. Nothing here will remind me of home, and - there is too much at stake to keep trying."

Despite her admission, she still looked pained as if she was loathe to admit it. He found himself laying a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, and they both looked at each other in surprise. Her face tinged pink and her eyes widened as she stared at his hand, unable to speak. He removed his hand and cleared his throat, looking anywhere but her. "Leliana, Josephine, and I - even Cassandra - are here to help you in this task. Do not hesitate to speak with us if you have need."

He stood up quickly then, embarrassed at his easy familiarity with the Herald, and nodded to her before striding off the walls and back to the training yard to oversee the recruits. 

He didn't notice the way that her eyes had followed him, considering.

When she joined them for dinner that night, her eyes downcast and hesitant as she slid onto the bench and scooted over next to him, he couldn't help the grin that came over his face. Cassandra gave him a look, her eyebrows raised as her eyes looked pointedly at the shy Herald who now picked at her food, but he could only shrug and hide his smile behind a sip of his water.

He was but a moth drawn to her flame, but as he watched her hesitantly smile up at him and bring a spoonful of stew to her lips, he found that he didn't mind at all.


	4. Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana experiences war.

The Hinterlands were burning.

Ellana stood at the edge of a cliff with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas, surveying the lands below with dismay. The wind blew through her, chilling her and sending her hair flying in every direction, and her feet were worn and tired from walking through the fields and valleys of the Hinterlands; but now, even as much as she had whined to herself earlier, she could not bring herself to care about her small pains.

Every house she could see was twisted and blackened through the kiss of fire. Some were still aflame, plumes of smoke rising in the air in a steady stream of gray and ash. The ground was burnt, all greenery a crisp - and even at this distance she could see the remains of humans and animals strewn upon the ground, their blackened forms sprawled onto the dirt.

"What - what happened here?" she whispered, unable to comprehend the complete destruction that fell upon this small, unassuming village. She turned to Cassandra, her expression aghast. "How could this have happened?" 

"War, Lady Herald," Cassandra replied, her tone even but her expression grim as she kept her gaze on the horizon. She did not need to see the bodies to know that they were there. "The templars and mages have been fighting for months, and only the villagers suffer for it."

"Creators," Ellana grimaced, her eyes closing in grief for a moment before she turned to the Seeker. "We must look for survivors."

"I don't mean to be a downer, Herald, but I doubt anyone is doing well down there," Varric spoke up, eyeing the smoke in the air critically. "We don't know how long it's been like this - all the survivors could have already up and left."

"We have to try," Ellana replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I would - if someone was alive down there..."

"You have a good heart, Herald," Solas murmured softly beside her, his voice loud enough only for her to hear. "But I fear we may be too late for anyone still waiting there."

"If we can even save one person..." she began just as quietly, staring down at the flames. "Please, everyone," she pleaded in her normal tone. "We need to at least check."

Cassandra glanced down at the girl and noted the way her shoulders had squared; she was not simply talking. "We will search," Cassandra agreed, hand clasped tightly on the pommel of her sword as she began to descend down the path leading to the burning village. Ellana followed close behind with Solas walking beside her, and Varric took one last glance towards the horizon, sighing before moving to follow.

The path winded through the hills but then opened up to an even clearer view of the village, and Ellana felt as if she would be sick. 

Her people had dealt with bandits before, but they rarely fought them. Hiding in plain sight was a gift granted to her people by Andruil, her Keeper had once told her, so that they would always have the bounty of the woods. But they would also use that gift to avoid unnecessary fights with the shemlen that unknowingly crossed their paths.

Sometimes, despite their efforts, they still had to fight; and then the men would fall to their deaths, slain by a hail of arrows.

This was nothing like those small skirmishes, with one or two men breathing their last breaths in a pool of crimson. This was a razing, intentional and purely destructive. She tried to ignore the men, frozen in death and covered in flies with their bellies spilling to the dusty earth. Women slaughtered, throats slit and eyes glassy as they stared to the sky. But then the children - she felt her blood boil, and then her stomach quivered. She leaned against a wooden post along the path and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the ground, shuddering in anger and disgust.

A hand was soon rubbing circles into her lower back, and when she finished retching she looked down to see Varric peering at her in concern. "You're not used to this," he guessed, and she nodded numbly. "Good," he replied, removing his hand and handing her a flagon of water as she stood up straight. He looked around them, something haunting in his gaze. "You'd think the smell would be different, but it's the same - terrible."

She realized then that he was thinking of Kirkwall, of the bodies that most likely had lain lifeless in the streets after the Chantry had exploded into a similar flame. She hesitated, glancing down at him once more, trying to find the right words to say - but she could find none, and so she took a quick swig of the water and swished it in her mouth before spitting it out and holding out the container to the dwarf. Varric took the flagon back from her and waved off her thanks, hooking it back onto his belt. "Well, you wanted to search," he tried to say lightly, but failed as his eyes landed on another corpse.

Ellana wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "It would be easier if we split up, but I don't know if the templars or mages are still around."

"We know how to holler," Varric replied, jerking his head towards the left. "I'll go this way."

Solas glanced in concern at Ellana's pale features before looking to Varric and nodding in agreement. "I will follow Master Tethras."

Ellana and Cassandra moved in the opposite direction, searching the houses for survivors. It was more tiring than Ellana realized - the smoke still hung heavy in the air and clogged her lungs, fatiguing her greatly. Then they often had to sift through charred and broken wood and stone only to find but a corpse laying beneath the rubble. 

Ellana's hope was beginning to fade far before they had entered the last house, but she soldiered on, determined to complete the search. The fires had died down here, but the roof had partially collapsed into the hut. There were two corpses leaning against a portion of the wall - a man and a woman with blonde hair stained an eerie copper by the dust and their dried blood. Ellana sent a prayer for the dead and then sighed as they entered the house - likely another house filled only with corpses.

"Mama!"

Ellana and Cassandra froze when they heard the voice. A child's voice, small and muffled, but definitely a child. Ellana looked around, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from before she heard the girl call out once again and looked down at her feet. Rubble covered the ground before her, and she began to dig into it furiously, moving the collapsed portions of roof from the floor. Cassandra helped her, lifting the heavier planks of wood and stone in a pile around them.

With one final push, they cleared the ground to reveal a trap door that was shaking violently. Cassandra and Ellana both glanced at each other before Ellana jerked the door open to find a small girl sitting on the steps leading into a cellar below, and Ellana grabbed her by the shoulder before she tumbled back down them in shock.

"You're not my mama!" the girl screamed, trying to fight out of Ellana's grasp - Ellana let go quickly, taking a step back to give the girl room.

"I'm not your mama, I know. But it's alright," Ellana coaxed the girl, speaking as quietly and as soothingly as possible, "we're here to help you."

The little girl shied into herself, terrified. "Mama told me not to talk to strangers," she cried, fat tears falling down her ruddy and soot covered cheeks. "That the bad men with sticks would hurt me. She left me here to get papa."

Ellana managed a crooked smile, her heart wrenching as she could guess the fate of her parents. She crouched to be at the girl's level and reached out, a red, square piece of cloth with the emblem of the Inquisition sewn into it with a golden thread hanging from her hand. "Luckily, I am not a man - and I don't have a stick."

The little girl peered at her and slowly nodded in agreement. Ellana was indeed not a man, and she didn't have a glowing stick like the mean men did. She hesitantly took the handkerchief from Ellana's outstretched hand, wiping her tears with the cloth.

"What is your name?" Ellana asked gently, reaching out to smooth the girl's blonde hair.

"L-Lily," she quavered before sobbing into the handkerchief.

"We'll take you somewhere safe, Lily. Don't cry." Ellana helped her onto her feet, pulling her up from underneath her armpits, and caught her when she stumbled. She brushed the girl off gently before lifting her into her arms, whispering to her soothingly. 

There was noise at the front of the hut, and Cassandra drew her sword and approached the door. She relaxed when she saw Varric and Solas walk through, their faces grim as they shook their heads at the Seeker. "No others," Cassandra reported, glancing over her shoulder at the Herald. "Just the child. We should leave before others arrive."

The girl gripped the leather straps of her jerkin tightly in fear, and Ellana ran a soothing hand through her hair. "I agree. Come, little one. Let's get you to safety."

"But my mama and papa," the girl cried, looking up around the burnt house, searching for her parents.

Ellana pulled the child closer to her, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm sorry. They have gone to be with the Crea- your Maker. You will not find them here." She took a deep breath before looking back up at her three companions. "We should go."

"Where will we take her?" Solas asked quietly, glancing at the child. "There are few safe places here."

"I don't know," Ellana replied brokenly, her fingers tightening on the girl. "Somewhere. Anywhere but here."

\--**--

The horns blared once for the Herald's return, and Cullen stopped scrutinizing the drilling recruits long enough to cast his eye upon the path. Ellana and her companions rode down the road on horses, and Cullen smiled at the sight. She must have succeeded in convincing Master Dennet to assist the Inquisition - indeed, that must be the man riding behind them, his face stern and critical of the operation around him. But as Ellana approached, he blinked in surprise to see a human child sitting in front of her saddle, her wide-eyed gaze trying to take in everything.

He walked up the road to meet her, hailing them to get them to halt. Ellana waved the others ahead as she stopped in front of the Commander, looking down at him with a shuttered expression.

"Herald," Cullen greeted her hesitantly, glancing at the child. "We did not expect you back so soon."

"Commander," Ellana answered lightly, swinging off of her mount and helping the child down to the ground before intertwining their fingers. "There were... unexpected circumstances; I had to return. Lily," she began, addressing her small charge, "this is Commander Cullen. He helps to protect all of us."

The girl hid half of her body behind Ellana as she shyly looked up at the Commander. When Ellana gently pushed her forward, she curtsied to the Commander and muttered an inaudible greeting.

"I see," he replied carefully, giving Ellana a look. He knelt down to be at eye level with the girl, a kind smile on his face. "Hello, Lily. A pleasure to meet you." The girl nodded, hiding her face into Ellana's thigh, and he rose back up to his feet. "We will make the necessary arrangements."

"Thank you," she breathed, and she suddenly looked incredibly tired despite her relief. She tugged gently on the reigns of her horse. "Come, little one. Let's take our boy to the stables."

He watched the two make their way to the stables, his eyes falling on the way that the girl seemed terrified to let go of the Herald - and he heaved a deep sigh. How many more children would be without parents by the end of this?

\--**--

Night had fallen onto Haven, and Cullen had not seen the Herald once since their initial meeting outside the town walls. He walked slowly through the village, carefully searching for her - and found her sitting once again on a high wall, staring into the starry sky. He climbed up the hill and then settled down beside her, staring up at the sky.

They sat together in silence for some stretch of time before Cullen found himself unable to restrain from addressing his unspoken concern any longer. "Herald," he began cautiously. "The Inquisition is no place for a child."

Ellana stiffened, her entire body tensing before deflating at the truth of his words. "I know, but - I couldn't leave her behind," she muttered to Cullen, staring into the cup of water that she held in her hand. "She was so small, and she had lost everything. I tried taking her to the refugees - no one could take her, and I couldn't force her on them. Another mouth to feed would be too much, they said. Creators, all of those people... I did not realize that when you spoke of war-" she paused, a lump in her throat. She took a sip of her water, trying to cleanse the horror from her mind, before setting it down on the wall and looking up at him mournfully. "I didn't know what it meant."

His fingers itched to pull her closer, to cradle her grief until it ceased to be - but he resisted, only allowing himself to rest a hand gently on her shoulder. Her eyes were misty as she looked up at him - but then she glanced away, rapidly blinking away the unshed tears before she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't meant to get weepy on you."

Cullen shook his head. "No. The Conclave was meant to end this war, but..." he sighed, realizing that his line of thought was not helping matters when he saw her face darken. "We will do what we can for the refugees, Herald. And for Lily. You have my word."

She struggled to form a watery smile, her hand grasping onto his own for just a moment before she pulled it away, moving to stand up. He let his hand fall from her shoulder and back to his side, observing her carefully.

"I need a moment," she murmured, her voice barely audible as she walked away from him. 

He watched her pass through the gates of Haven and into the darkened forest beyond, his brow furrowed in worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can be a bit blase about war and death, especially when we are the hero of a game. But in actuality, I feel like our characters would often be horrified and disturbed - at least initially.


	5. Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen asks uncomfortable questions.

"Cullen."

The Commander looked up to see Leliana gazing at him thoughtfully, arms crossed as she considered him. He blinked at her scrutiny before nodding to her in greeting. "Leliana," he began, standing up from his desk. "May I help you?"

Leliana gazed at him silently once more, not speaking so long that he began to fidget. He liked Leliana well enough, but it was unnerving when she stared at him as if she could read into the very depths of his soul. "There was another incident with the Herald today."

Cullen sighed, sinking back down into his chair. It had begun a week ago, with Lavellan nearly bringing a servant to tears when she insisted that she was not the herald of Andraste and that she would not be addressed that way. It was such a small thing, but the people clung to tightly to the idea that she was what she was; any idea to the contrary caused great distress and agitation.

"You must speak with her," Leliana concluded, eyeing him carefully.

"Me?" Cullen sputtered. "I do not know how I would be any help."

"You've persuaded her to open up before," Leliana said softly. "Josephine has tried, but - she is most comfortable with you, Commander. You should speak with her before this becomes a bigger problem."

He sighed noisily. "I doubt I can make her change her mind about this, Leliana. She is very insistent in her ways."

"I don't need her to believe," Leliana answered, shaking her head. "Just for her not to be so - openly contrary. It is lowering morale. You must at least try."

So now, because of her insistence, Cullen found himself walking towards the stables at the dead of night. He found the Herald at the stables tending to one of the youngest harts recently acquired by the Inquisition. She was brushing its coat and singing to it softly, and though he could not make out the words, her voice was soft and sweet as she tried to soothe the animal. He cleared his throat, trying to catch her attention without startling her.

He was mostly successful; Ellana started, but only briefly before turning to him. "Commander."

"Herald," he answered, inclining his head slightly to her. He did not miss the way she winced at the title, the way she has always winced whenever someone called her by that name. This was not going to be easy.

"May I be of assistance?" She asked politely, placing the brush down on a nearby stool before giving him her full attention.

Cullen shifted on his feet, unwilling to launch directly into the reason for his appearance. "I wanted to ask if - anyone was giving you trouble?"

She looked up at him, a grim smile on her face. "I'm a bit sick of people assuming I'm a servant at first glance. Also, the stares and whispers. Other than that? I let be, or shove an arrow in a face if it gets bad enough."

"That's - " He furrowed his brow, appalled at her revelation. "I will make sure that at least the recruits know better."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Josephine told me something similar when she asked - it's infuriating, but I cannot let it get to me. I'm mostly used to it by now, anyways."

He shook his head in disagreement. "No. The Inquisition should welcome anyone, regardless of their class or origin, if they want to help. We have precious few allies as it stands."

"Even mages?" Ellana questioned coyly, humor in her eyes but her body coiled. He had no idea what caused her to sympathize with mages so strongly, but she obviously felt strongly about it.

His mouth thinned and his eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. "Mages should take care not to turn into abominations but - yes, even mages."

"A strange view for an ex-templar." She eyed him warily, before relaxing slightly. "You are different from the other shemlen, Commander," she said, tilting her head. "You do not seem to have the same prejudices - you haven't had to stop yourself from calling me a knife-ear once."

He stiffened at her words. "That is not in my vocabulary."

She held back a laugh at his expression. "See, like that! How gallant of you. It is... refreshing, to say the least."

They fell into an awkward silence, and Cullen gathered the courage to say the actual question he meant to ask. "I did have a question for you - do you... ah - hate Andraste?"

Ellana blinked, confused by the accusation. "Who am I to hate a woman long dead? No, I do not hate Andraste. She actually tried to help us, if I recall."

Cullen frowned at her words, not understanding. "Then why hate being called her herald?"

She frowned herself, looking pensive. "Andraste has too many ties to the Chantry and your Maker. It just feels... wrong. It would be like calling you Mythal's Champion when you just want to do what's right. I do not care about your Maker, as much as you care not for my Creators. I am here to close the Breach and bring back order as best I can, and then - I will return to my clan."

"The people thrive on what they see as your connection to the Maker," Cullen said, treading softly now. "Your loud denial is - "

"Ah, is that what this is about?" She muttered to herself. "I cannot let them call me such a thing when it is so - so obviously wrong!"

"Faith is not about what is right," Cullen replied, looking away from her. "I've - discovered this first-hand. I was not lying when I said I put my faith in you - and many of the others do, as well. Would you deny them this for the satisfaction of being right?"

She growled in frustration, and he looked at her, surprised at her outburst. "Fine! First Leliana, then Josephine, now you - I get the point. I'll be a good little elf and stay quiet."

"Hera- " He stopped himself, choking on the word. He sighed and then started again. "Lady Lavellan. You know that we respect your beliefs."

She scowled at him. "Yes, of course - when it's convenient for you."

"It's more complicated then that, and you know it," he answered tersely. "I would - I am not asking you to believe. Simply to let them continue believing."

She stared at him and he matched her, both of them silent as they regarded the other. She finally looked away and sighed noisily, and he knew that she had relented.

"Can you tell me about your clan?" He asked hesitantly, a verbal olive branch that he hoped she would not spurn.

She laughed then, an incredulous sound, and she leveled a gaze at him to gauge his sincerity. "Is this payback for digging around your life earlier?"

"I'm actually curious," he began, relieved that she did not seem too upset, and leaned against a post. "I have never had the chance to encounter any Dalish elves while guarding the Circles."

"I can't tell you how all the Dalish live," she began, looking off into the distance as she settled onto her stool. "I've learned that the experience varies wildly depending on what clan you're from. But my clan, Lavellan, resides in the Free Marches. We keep mostly to ourselves, living the nomadic life." Her legs dangled, unable to reach the ground from her perch on the stool, and her eyes grew wistful. "I first saw a human at sixteen - and I had to go out of my way to see them. I had not seen one up close since - it made the Conclave... overwhelming. So many sights and sounds and people, and nothing familiar to ease the transition."

She cleared her throat, looking to him. "But I digress - life in the clan was simple. You woke up, broke fast, and asked your blessings of the Creators before heading out to hunt if the stores were low. If they were not, you would stay in camp, helping out where you could. Sometimes that meant helping to maintain the weapons, like making arrows for the next day. Other times that could mean helping to gather herbs and other necessities for the First and the Keeper so that they could make poultices and other such things. There was never really a shortage of things to do in order to help the clan. At night, when the cold became unbearable, we would light out fires and tell stories of the great ones deep into the night."

He spoke up, his voice quiet in the stables. "Your life sounded - peaceful."

Ellana snorted. "Peaceful? Ah, I suppose compared to what it is now, it was. But as much as I miss it, there were - downsides. We lived in constant fear of being discovered by bandits or hunting parties and - ah, I'd rather just reminisce the good right now, if you don't mind."

Cullen understood the feeling of wanting to ignore parts of the past. "Of course."

They both regarded each other in relative silence until Ellana stood up, brushing some hay off of her clothes. "Thank you for checking up on me," she said, politely ignoring the more heated discussion they had earlier. "And for listening to me ramble about my people. I don't really get the chance to talk about it. Good evening, Commander."

"Good night, Lady Lavellan," he answered, watching as she nodded in return, a small smile on her lips at his words, and swept away into the night.


	6. Archery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana teaches.

"I'm not sure about this, Cassandra," Cullen muttered as he walked with the Seeker towards the training grounds of Haven. "I'm still not convinced that this is worth Lady Lavellan's time."

"Lady Lavellan?" Cassandra asked archly, a brow raised as she regarded the Commander.

"She doesn't seem to like 'Herald,'" he retorted, not knowing how Cassandra managed to make him feel embarrassed with a simple raised inflection. "And her glares are unpleasant."

The look that he received told him that Cassandra was having none of it, but she mercifully dropped the subject. "The Herald needs to know the men and women that follow her - and they need to know her. You have not seen her with a bow, Cullen, but she is skilled. Do not worry."

"I do not doubt that," he replied earnestly, waving a hand in the air. "It's just-"

Cullen paused when they walked through the gates and saw the entire Inquisition crowded around the archery range. They both glanced at each other before approaching the crowd, trying to figure out what was important enough that the recruits would be allowed to stop their drills.

As they moved closer, they saw Ellana and Varric standing side by side, aiming their weapons towards the targets. Ellana's bow was almost as large as she was, but she managed to look as if it were as light as a feather as she held it in her grasp. She plucked an arrow from her quiver and notched the bow, taking in a deep breath before she pulled her hand back. The bowstring grew taut between her fingers, and she pulled it back further with a hard tug before she let it fly through the air, silent in its flight. 

It struck the red center with a loud thunk. She paused, as if admiring her handiwork, and the recruits that had gathered around her erupted into cheers. She blinked and looked around at them, the tips of her ears flushed pink as she gave them an unpracticed curtsy. 

Varric scoffed and said something to Ellana, inaudible due to the distance, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He lifted Bianca and quickly let a bolt fly through the air, laughing as it split Ellana's arrow in two.

Cullen finally drew close enough that he could hear them yelling at each other over the dull roar of the crowd.

"Bianca is easy! You just point and shoot," Cullen heard her whine, and she loomed over the dwarf, pushing her index finger into his shoulder and pushing him back slightly. "Do something more challenging!"

Varric scoffed, reloading Bianca with an audible click. "Careful there, Herald. Bianca is a very particular lady - nothing easy about her."

"I do apologize to your one and only," Ellana replied, not sounding very apologetic at all as she continued to tower almost threateningly over him. "But that doesn't make it any less true."

As Ellana and Varric continued to glare at each other heatedly, Cullen glanced at Cassandra in concern. She made a face and a sound of frustration before holding out one of her hands flat and then closing her other into a fist, gently pressing it against her palm. He grimaced and did the same, and they hit their palms with their fists twice before flashing a sign. Cassandra kept her hand curled; Cullen had extended his index and middle finger, and he swore.

"Rock slays bird," Cassandra mouthed to him, and Cullen groaned in defeat. "Maker guide you."

He took in a deep breath and let it out in a quick burst of air before moving. He pushed through the crowd, sending stern looks to the recruits who looked terrified when they realized who was shoving past them. Eventually he made it through and strode up to Ellana and Varric, crossing his arms as he glared down at both of them. "Lady Lavellan. Varric. You're disrupting my drills."

The change over Ellana was almost immediate. She stopped scowling at Varric and stood up straight, smiling at him warmly. Cullen blinked in utter confusion and uncrossed his arms, completely disarmed by her smile. "Commander," she replied, her eyes twinkling. "I'm sorry for distracting your recruits - but Cassandra suggested I help them with archery, and I thought it a wonderful idea, but Varric," she said darkly, glaring down playfully at the dwarf, "couldn't resist usurping me."

"I can't," Varric shrugged, an easy grin on his face, "the Herald gets so flustered."

"I do not!" she protested loudly, flushing when Varric raised a brow at her as she proved his point.

"Whatever the reason - we've been delayed enough." Cullen cleared his throat, turning to look at the recruits crowded around them. "Back to your training!" he shouted. When no one moved fast enough, his eyes narrowed. "Now!"

The crowd scattered, the recruits scurrying off to their proper places at the command in his voice, and soon it was only Cassandra, Cullen, Ellana, and Varric that stood near the targets. Cullen sighed; he did not mean to be harsh, but these men and women were so green that he feared for them.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, Curly," Varric muttered as he hefted Bianca to his shoulder, beginning to walk towards the gates of Haven. "I'll get out of your way."

Cullen nodded to Varric and started when he felt Ellana at his side and heard her voice so close to him. "Some of these recruits are so young," Ellana murmured quietly, and he glanced down at her to see her looking at a youth who struggled to notch his bow. "That boy - Kelan - told me he was only seventeen. Should we be allowing children to fight, to die-?"

"Many of them lost their families to the war," Cullen interrupted, anger and regret seeping into his voice as he stared at the recruits practicing with each other, their swords and shields glinting in the sun as they clashed. "Pilgrims, locals - they see the breach in the sky, and they want to fight. I can only help to keep them alive by training them well."

Ellana fell silent, and they stood together examining the troops before he felt her hand gently placed on his forearm. He looked down at her in surprise and she merely smiled hesitantly at him. "You will succeed," she reassured him, her fingers curling around his bracer. "They have placed their faith in you."

The corner of his mouth quirked in a slight smile as she retold his words to him. "I can only hope to prove that faith well placed," he replied, trying to ignore how the pressure of her hand caused his heart to race.

"I am certain you will. I will do all that I can do help." Her hand fell to her side, and she nodded to him before gliding away towards the struggling boy. He watched as she helped him to improve his form, speaking quietly as she guided him into a wider stance. The Herald was kind but stern with the boy, despite him being obviously starstruck, and he felt all of his trepidation disappear. She would do right by his recruits.

He only tore his eyes off of Ellana when Cassandra moved to stand next to him, her arms crossed. She looked incredibly pleased with herself, which made Cullen incredibly nervous. "You are transparent, Cullen."

He stared at Cassandra for a moment, not comprehending her words. "What-?"

Cassandra gave him another look before her eyes slid to Ellana, who was now laughing at something as she patted the boy's back. He followed her line of sight and then sputtered. "What? No! I mean... I- she's-"

"Do not worry, Commander," Cassandra smirked, and he decided that he definitely did not like that expression directed at him. "My lips are sealed."

He groaned, a hand coming up to his neck in embarrassment. "Maker's breath. I'm going to - be over there."

Cassandra's smile faded into a considering look as she watched Cullen stalk towards the drilling recruits. She sent one last glance towards the Herald before moving towards the training dummies. Cullen was a friend - one of few. She only wished for his happiness - but the Herald...?

She heaved a sigh as she unsheathed her blade, sending a forceful strike to her stationary foe. 

She could only hope that this did not end in disaster for him, like everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Cullen and Cassandra playing rock-paper-scissors just made me giggle.
> 
> I feel like Cullen and Cassandra would be good friends, in their own way.


	7. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana goes to the Storm Coast.

Ellana surveyed the churning waters of the Storm Coast and found herself once again feeling homesick. She knew that across this wide expanse of ocean, the Free Marches awaited. A place that did not smell like the underside of a wet Mabari, a place with a beautiful forest of green that she had lost herself in many times in her childhood. A place where she had once dug her toes into the soil under a bright and brilliant sun and called home.

But now, she stood on the other side of that angry ocean a completely different woman, changed by events that were out of her control. She felt her left hand twitch and she looked down to see the mark glowing slightly in her hand. Would she ever be able to return to her previous life? A quiet existence, despite being filled with personal strife. Wake, hunt, sleep. Eventually, marry and have children for the sake of the clan.

She had told the Commander that night in the stables that she would return to her clan after she closed the Breach. But she had hated her life there, stifled and shamed by her failures and for her dreams. She had never wanted to be a Dalish elf, to only concern herself with the forests and not the world around her. But now that she was here in a strange and foreign land, she was not sure that she had been really ready to leave.

"Look!" Cassandra exclaimed, pointing down at the sandy shore and interrupting her somber thoughts. "That must be them."

Ellana's eyes followed Cassandra's finger, scanning below to find a group of men and women fighting off a group of mages. She nodded to her companions and then stepped back three steps, each measured carefully against the hard rocks. She then steadied herself and raced to the ledge, leaping off of the edge of the hillside with unbounded glee. Her laughter rose up through the air as she left them behind, sliding down the rocks and soil in a rapid descent towards the ground.

Varric peered over the ledge, watching Ellana's form grow smaller and smaller as she slid before glancing up at Cassandra and Solas with an incredulous look. "There's no way I'm doing that."

Cassandra sighed noisily, a sound of frustration that rose unbidden up her throat. "You and me both."

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric slowly made their way down a much safer, but winding mountain path down to the shore. When they arrived, they found Ellana sitting on a jutting rock, her feet dangling as she spoke to a large Qunari. As they approached, she stood up and waved at them, yelling something that was swallowed up by the sound of the ocean tides.

"A Qunari?" Varric said warily, eyeing Cassandra as they drew closer to the pair. "Did she not hear about Kirkwall? I think she may be insane."

Cassandra only sighed once more and trudged through the sand towards the Herald, her eyes flittering over the multitude of corpses strewed around the perimeter. The rest of the mercenaries were inspecting the dead and ensuring that they had actually crossed to the other side. The Chargers seemed to be a motley crew of elves, dwarves, and humans of varying places of origin, but they were obviously effective if they could dispatch all of these foes.

"Cassandra!" Ellana said brightly as the Seeker drew near. "We've hired the Chargers."

Cassandra eyed the Qunari carefully. His horns were large and set on his head like a bull's, and he was so tall and muscular that he made Ellana look like a small child as she sat next to him. She was not one to judge a person by his eyes, but they held an almost haunted look behind the easy smile that he sent her way, and she knew that he was a fighter.

"This is The Iron Bull," Ellana introduced the Qunari cheerfully, and Cassandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course that was his name. "He is the leader of the Chargers, and he will be working with us now."

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance," Cassandra said as pleasantly as she could manage. By the looks on Ellana's and Bull's faces, her sincerity was apparently not very convincing. "Herald, a word?"

The Iron Bull merely nodded to Ellana when she gave him a glance. "We'll meet you back at Haven, Boss. We have to speak to that diplomat of yours, anyways."

Ellana stepped with Cassandra a few paces away, who crossed her arms and glared down at her. "Herald."

Ellana sighed in resignation, knowing that look. It was the same expression that Keeper Deshanna gave her before she was verbally thrashed for something or another. "You're not a fan of rock-surfing," she guessed.

"Your life is more than your own now, Herald," Cassandra began quietly, but sternly. "You must not take unnecessary risks."

Ellana fell silent, her eyes glancing towards Solas and Varric who stood a respectable distance away from them before speaking again. "Everything is an unnecessary risk, Cassandra. If you were that concerned, you would lock me up in the dungeons and only let me out when you need to close a rift or two. A little fun isn't going to kill anyone."

"Fun?" Cassandra responded incredulously before crossing her arms. "How in Andraste's name - nevermind. Just take my words into account, Herald.."

"Right," Ellana waved her off dismissively, motioning for Solas and Varric to join them. "Some of the Inquisition is still missing in these hills," she informed them, a frown gracing her face as she glanced up to the hills. "We need to find them - hopefully before anything happens to them."

"Does anyone not want to talk about the fact that we just hired a Qunari?" Varric muttered, glancing up at Ellana. "Nothing good has come out of dealing with them - and trust me, I've had plenty of experience."

Solas nodded in agreement. "The Qun is not something to be looked upon without suspicion."

"Everyone thought I was a mass murderer when they first found me," Ellana argued, though her tone was light as she waved her marked hand for emphasis. "And look! Now I am saving the world. Give him a chance; I'm sure he'll surprise you."

Varric and Solas merely glanced at each other at her words, and Varric shrugged. She did have a point. 

"We will go back up the rocks and then head west," Ellana ordered, eyeing the setting sun. "We need to figure out what's going on with our men before nightfall."

\--**--

The sun now kissed the horizon, the last moments of sunlight giving way to a black sky and the light of the stars. As they walked carefully down a rocky hillside path, Ellana admired the greenery around her. The blades of grass waved with the wind that swirled around them, the rain that now fell upon the rocks making them wet and shining. Trees were visible in the distance on top of plateau, a plume of smoke rising to the skies; that was most likely their destination.

"It's too quiet," Varric murmured, glancing around him. The path was completely clear, but he had a bad feeling he couldn't shake. "And anyone can see us skipping merrily down this path to our doom."

"Perhaps we should hold hands for safety," Solas quipped deadpan, his hands tightly gripped on his staff as he looked around suspiciously as well. It was indeed too quiet - neither the birds chirped nor did the insects dare make a sound. "Master Tethras is right. The air does not feel right."

Ellana's hands grasped her bow tighter as the path began to snake upwards precariously. A large sign was posted at the mouth of the road, and she peered at it with squinted eyes. "Caution, falling rocks?" Ellana read quietly, glancing up at the ominous path above. Lightning flashed in the sky and illuminated the world around them, and after a moment thunder boomed in the distance. "Well, that's cheerful." She looked back at her companions. "I don't see another way up."

"Neither do I," Cassandra agreed grimly, her lips twisted into a frown and her brows furrowed as she examined the path above. "This does not bode well."

"We need to find those men," Ellana said determinedly. "Stay close to the wall. The darkness will help us stay hidden."

Their ascent up the path was quiet but for their soft footfalls as they climbed, but despite their trepidation they managed to reach the top without incident. "Well," Ellana said, glancing around. The end of the path revealed an quiet set of small huts, a dying fire still smoldering in the distance. "This feels like an ambush."

Cassandra raised her shield and blocked an arrow that homed for Ellana's shoulder. "Get ready!" she yelled, drawing her sword and charging at the men who emerged from the shadows.

Varric nodded to Ellana and they scrambled in opposite directions. Ellana hid behind the trunk of a massive tree while Varric positioned himself behind a pile of crates, launching a bolt into the air before he reloaded, shouting over his shoulder. "To your left, Seeker!"

Cassandra bashed her shield into the bandit that crept up her left side, quickly following up with the thrust of her blade as she disemboweled her foe. She froze as she felt a disturbance and the air and turned to see an arrow suspended in the air, halted just before it embedded into her heart. She glanced over to Solas, who acknowledged her thanks with a small nod before he gripped his staff and thrust it forcefully into the ground. Lightning gathered in the air around him and shot in an arc to the archer hiding in a tree, and a woman fell onto the ground, trembling with shock.

Ellana's arrow found purchase in a bandit that was approaching from behind one of the huts. "Just how many of them are there?" she shouted, plucking another arrow from her quiver and shooting at another foe that approached Cassandra from behind. A burst of red erupted from his shoulder as he lifted his arm to strike, and he dropped his sword and clutched at his wound, stumbling forward in pain. A ball of fire burst into his chest and he screamed, falling to his knees as he clawed at his chest.

Ellana let out a shaky breath at the sound before notching another arrow and slipping into the shadows of the trees around her, climbing up a great tree trunk before perching in the branches, stilling her heartbeat as she looked around. She could not see any more bandits in the area, but then spotted metal shining in the distance. Templars. 'They must have seen Solas' magic,' Ellana realized, swinging down to the ground and racing off into the distance.

"Herald!" Cassandra called after her, but Ellana was already gone, her arrows flying through the air as she aimed for the enemies approaching them. One of the templars caught an arrow in his throat and fell to the ground, blood gurgling up his throat, and she stared grimly at the body as the blood began to pool around him. The other glanced down at his brother and ran towards her in a blind rage, but was also felled by an arrow to the throat.

She heard the movement behind her too late, and she swirled around to see an enraged templar looming over her. His face behind his helmet was shaped into a snarl, and she felt herself rooted to the ground. 'He has hazel eyes,' she thought mutely before she brought her bow up in front of her face to stop the blow of his sword. The force of his strike on the wood caused her to stumble backwards onto the ground, and she groaned at the impact. The templar thrust at the ground and she rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow before she leaped to her feet, an arrow already in her hand and firing at the templar - but her attack only bounced uselessly off of his shield and suddenly, she felt fear. She looked around helplessly to see if any of her companions would be able to help her, but then he was upon her again, slicing at her in a large arc.

'The Templars of the Order are among greatest warriors of Thedas,' she distantly remembered the Commander telling her over dinner one night. His eyes had glinted in the torchlight, almost hazel when muddled by the flames. 'Do not underestimate them, Lady Lavellan. Even the worst templar is better than the best chevalier.'

A sword burst through the templar's stomach, and he staggered onto his knees, gasping for his last breaths. Cassandra pressed her foot against the man's back before pulling her sword in an arc of blood.

"Falon'Din guide you," Ellana muttered to the dying man. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she staggered towards Cassandra, but she couldn't understand the wide-eyed stare that the Seeker now bestowed upon her.

"Herald!" Cassandra rushed towards her, gripping her shoulder. "You are wounded."

"What?" Ellana replied confusedly, and then she suddenly realized the burning sensation across her torso was from the bite of a blade. She pressed a hand against her chest and then held up her blood-stained gloves to eye-level in disbelief. "Oh," she said softly, a feeling of dread overcoming her as she stumbled. Cassandra caught her as she fell, lowering both of them to the ground and looking her over.

"Solas," Cassandra grimaced as she examined the tear across Ellana's torso, looking up to the concerned apostate. "This does not look good."

"We need to slow the bleeding," Solas replied tersely, rummaging in his pack for bandages. "Her leathers took most of the blade; it's not too deep, but it is large, and she is bleeding rapidly."

"I'm fine, really," Ellana groaned, trying to escape Cassandra's grip. "Doesn't everyone get stabbed by a templar or two in their lifetime?"

Cassandra pointedly ignored her attempts at humor as she glanced at Solas. "Can you heal her?"

The frown that overcame his face was the answer she feared. "No. It requires much concentration, and we are still in danger here out in the open." He handed the bandages over to Cassandra. "You will have to remove her armor. Varric and I will keep watch while you do so."

Cassandra nodded and set Ellana on the ground while Varric and Solas took positions away from them, and pointedly looking away. The adrenaline finally stopped pumping through Ellana's veins and she hissed at the intense pain she now felt, clenching her eyes shut. She grunted as Cassandra pulled the armor away from her form, the leathers wet with her blood.

"Stay still," Cassandra commanded, pulling the bandages tight over her torso. "And stay awake. You will start to feel lightheaded soon, but try to stay awake."

"I didn't realize there was more than two," Ellana said softly, cursing under her breath at the pain. "Dread Wolf take me and slay me, this hurts!"

"You will be fine," Cassandra muttered, punctuating each word with a tightening of the bandages before she tore it off the roll with her teeth and tied the cloth tight against Ellana's chest. "Just stay awake."

"I'm trying," Ellana answered distantly, her head beginning to loll. She glanced down and noticed the red seeping through the bandages. "Oh... that's a lot of blood."

"Solas! Varric!" Cassandra called, pulling Ellana up and over her shoulder. "We need to go. Now."

Solas and Varric both nodded before taking position in front of and behind Cassandra. Solas gazed grimly at the girl who carried the mark, now hanging precariously off of the Seeker as they made their way back down the mountain path as quickly as they could. Her face was hidden by her ebony hair that swayed with every step Cassandra took, her fingers clenching onto Cassandra's arm as she moaned in pain. 

He felt regret at the path that she now followed; pulled into a maddening spiral that no one had predicted and even fewer would understand. And now the crimson that stained her chest made him think of another time, another place - another girl. 

She was not close to death yet, but she would be if they did not get her to safety soon.

Dread Wolf take her and slay her, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Solas is secretly a comedian.


	8. Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana returns to Haven.

The letter crumpled in his gloved hand as he almost ran through Haven, rushing towards the center of town and barely conscious of his surroundings. He mindlessly acknowledged the greetings sent his way with distracted nods as he stopped in front of a tent, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath before he stepped into view. He found Leliana leaning over a table, staring at a report, and he cleared his throat to try to capture her attention. Her eyes continued to focus on the paper, but he knew that she was listening.

"What do you mean, the Herald has been injured?" Cullen asked with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "What happened?"

Leliana peered up the the Commander looming at the mouth of her tent and took in his obvious displeasure. His face was pinched as he held back his considerable concern, almost pale in the midday sun, and his arms crossed tightly across his chest, hands gripping his biceps tightly to control his nerves as he waited for her reply.

"She was... surprised, by a rogue templar," she replied diplomatically, turning back to her papers. "That was the only word I've received. She is returning to Haven as we speak."

Soldiers get wounded in battle. Cullen knew this, with as many fights as he'd been in; he had the scars to prove this universal truth. But somehow the idea of her blood being spilled chilled him, as if he were suddenly dunked under the thick ice of the Haven lake and into its frigid waters. "Do you know when?"

"According to my scouts, within the day," Leliana answered, her fingers tracing the words on a scroll as she read it intently. She paused in her perusal, glancing back up at the Commander when he made no move to leave. "I have already warned Adan. We will be ready for her."

His eyes were fixed on her, his brows furrowed as he tried to form a coherent question from his swirling thoughts. "Do you know if-"

"No, I do not know the extent of her injuries. Cassandra was not very forthcoming in her note - you know how she writes," Leliana stood up straight and crossed her arms, leveling a stare at him. "We can do nothing now but wait, Cullen."

"I know," he replied, and she could see the worry deepening the lines of his face despite his admission.

"The Maker wills what He wills, Cullen." Leliana spoke quietly and firmly, but the intensity of her gaze gave Cullen the distinct feeling that perhaps her words were not meant to be a platitude, but a warning.

He cleared his throat once again, her unblinking gaze unnerving him. "Thank you. Excuse me, Leliana."

"Of course," she nodded back to him, turning once again to her reports.

Cullen tried to return to his office and read through the messages piled onto his desk, but he found himself distracted and unable to think. He growled in frustration and stood up, leaving to walk through the paths of Haven and towards the drill fields. The recruits had already completed their exercises for the day, leaving the training yard empty. But even still, his feet guided him there, the cold winds whipping around him mercilessly and tousling his hair. He stood in his usual spot and crossed his arms, looking up at the sky in contemplation.

When Cassandra had approached him in Kirkwall, he had been glad to leave even though it would bring him back to Ferelden. The events of Kirkwall Rebellion had rested more heavily in his mind in those days, another nightmare that haunted even his waking moments. He could still remember the horror that he had felt as the sky burned red, fire falling from the skies and raining to the ground below. The hundreds that he knew could not have survived - the sisters, the mothers. Any who had gone to what was supposed to be a place of peace to hear the Chant of Light.

And the aftermath - the mages had cast so many spells that the entire city smelled like the Fade, a sharp, almost metallic tinge to the air that mingled with the scent of death. Innocents slaughtered in the streets as they tried to flee for their lives, the people he had sworn to protect cut down mercilessly in front of his eyes.

The Champion alone had stood up against Meredith. He had never seen the affable woman so serious, the scowl that had replaced her perpetual smirk foreign and disturbing. He did not understand her then - how could she not see that the mages were destroying the city? Why would she defend them and prevent the templars from keeping the peace?

But then he had seen Meredith's warped version of protection, and he had felt disturbed and torn. He could still see her cold, steely gaze, her lyrium-enhanced sword pointed to his chest as she threatened him. He could still hear her voice as she twisted the Chant of Light with her misguided intentions.

"Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!"

Meredith. He had admired her so, defended her from everyone who whispered of her insanity, and to have seen her descend into madness had destroyed the world that he had built around himself after the fall of the Circle.

He accepted the position as Commander of the Inquisition because he wished to have a new start. A chance to become part of a force greater than himself; but instead of following blindly like he did as a templar, he would help direct the course of the organization with his own hands. A chance to change the course of history for the better. But now, somehow, it meant even more to him because of her.

Lady Lavellan was nothing like Meredith except for the easy manner in which she garnered loyalty. Despite her differences, despite being an elf, the Inquisition had almost fallen at her feet once she had accepted her responsibility as the Herald of Andraste; but she never used her influence to further her own goals, only working tirelessly to bring peace to all of Thedas. She gave him faith that leaders did not have to fall victim to the lure of power once it was in their grasp, even though history showed otherwise time and time again.

He remembered the last time he saw the Herald; the laughter in her voice, the way that even her eyes seemed to smile as she had turned to him as he approached her.

"Is this really the best course of action?" he had asked her as she had placed her bags onto her hart and ran a loving hand through its coat to soothe the beast. "We know nothing about these Chargers. If you give Leliana time..."

"You did say we needed to 'expand our influence,'" she had replied with no small amount of humor, her eyes sparkling as she was no doubt endlessly amused by his hesitance. Her hair had been tied into a large, messy braid then, falling past her shoulder and tied with an earthy green ribbon, and she flicked it over her shoulder in annoyance as she mounted her hart - more like climbed onto it, really - and looked down on him. "And that we accept anyone."

He had no response for her then, only looking up in silence. She had not seen the mercenaries and lowlifes that had roamed Kirkwall's streets at night, slitting any throat for the right amount of coin. She must have seen his worry, for she had leaned over and grinned in his face, a hand coming down to rest on his shoulder. "I'll be back before you know it, Commander - and we'll have a bunch of big, scary mercenaries to wave around and show off. You'll see!"

Her easy confidence did not sway him in the slightest, but he managed a small nod before she straightened and beckoned her hart into a trot.

The green ribbon swayed back and forth against her leather jerkin, and he wondered if it was now splattered red with her blood.

He shook his head, his eyes staring up at the Breach that seemed to swim in the sky as murkily as his thoughts. He knew that she was capable; despite her stature, she was no delicate flower that needed protecting. But now as a million scenes of her injury played in his head, each more gruesome than the last, he wished that he had been there, that he could have done anything to help her.

A small hand pressed against his arm and his heart stilled for a moment as he withdrew from his thoughts, expecting to see her smiling face - but it was only Josephine, her eyes full of worry. "Are you alright, Cullen?"

He searched her face for a moment before looking away, his breath fogging the air. "You heard the news?"

"Yes," Josephine answered quietly, her hand withdrawing from his arm. "And you did not answer my question."

"You should worry about the Herald, not me," he replied after a moment, glancing back at her. "I am... fine."

Josephine merely frowned at him then, her mouth opening as if to comment; but she merely let out a soft sigh, deciding against it. "Leliana received word. They should be crossing at any moment," Josephine explained, her eyes flicking over to the bridge looming to the west. "Seeing the Herald injured would not be good for morale. Adan recommended we take her to the cabin in the east; we will direct her there."

Cullen nodded in agreement, his face stern as his eyes flicked once more towards the bridge. "I will make sure it is safe."

He turned and marched off in the direction of the wood before Josephine could even reply, and she watched him leave with the small frown still on her face. She knew that he knew the cabin was perfectly safe, but she didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. She - even Leliana, despite her apparent coldness - felt nervous and frightened at the news; she could not imagine the turmoil that Cullen felt. She looked towards the bridge and folded her arms, the chill seeping into her clothes as she stared up at the bridge. She rubbed her arms in an attempt to ward off the cold and she turned on her heel, walking back through the gates of Haven.

The Herald would be fine. She had to be.

\--**--

The cabin in the woods was a quaint lodge sitting in the middle of the forest, close to the drill fields and surrounded by rocks and great trees. The door opened with a creak as Cullen pushed against it, and he peered inside. It was dusty and he entered slowly, carefully examining his surroundings.

Light filtered through the windows and revealed the contents of the room. The door opened to a large space mostly empty except for, an unlit brazier sitting in the middle of the room and a few barrels and crates pushed up against the walls. He walked in further and saw the wall opened to reveal a sectioned off part of the cabin with two beds pushed up against a wall. He stood, immobile as he suddenly realized that perhaps there was not much that he could do for her here.

Cullen started when the door burst open, and he swirled to see Cassandra cradling someone in her arms. They stared at each other for a moment in shock before Cassandra frowned.

"Cullen," Cassandra greeted him, but his focus was on the precious bundle she held tightly in her grasp. "You should not be here."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. "I know."

Ellana was too still in the Seeker's arms, her hair pulled away from her face into a messy ponytail. Her eyes were closed and her skin was pale, but she was still sweating despite the cold. The green ribbon tied her hair together, but it was splattered with something dark, and the color ran from his face as he looked up at Cassandra in horror.

"Well, don't just stand there blocking the door," Adan admonished, squeezing past Cassandra and into the cabin as he closed the door behind him. He unceremoniously dumped a torch onto the logs of wood in the brazier, rubbing his hands together to try to warm himself. "Maker's breath, it's cold in here. Lay her down on that bed and let me take a look at her."

Cassandra complied immediately, walking towards the bed and carefully placing Ellana onto it. Ellana whined deep within her throat, her head thrashing against the pillows as if fighting off an invisible monster. Her face twisted into a grimace and her eyes moved beneath her lids as she let out shallow breaths, and Adan pressed the back of his hand against her forehead and frowned, looking up at the Seeker. "Did you let the wound get infected?"

"We did the best we could," Cassandra answered, her eyes moving from Ellana to Adan, "but supplies were limited. We returned as quickly as possible."

"So you let it get infected," he surmised, sighing as he glanced towards Cullen. "Commander, you've seen her. Now take your leave - making sad eyes at her wont help at all."

He nodded numbly as he turned to leave, wishing to purge the image of her weakness from his mind. The room suddenly felt stuffy and stale, and he walked quickly towards the door, forcefully throwing it open. He couldn't see the wound marring her flesh, inflamed and weeping. But now that he saw her alive, he felt a rush of relief despite her obvious pain. She was not out of danger yet, but Adan would take care of her. She would survive.

He closed the door softly behind him and leaned his back onto it, grateful for the cold air filling his lungs. "You said what did this to her?" Adan's voice carried through the cracks in the door as Cullen leaned against it. "Andraste's tits, that's going to leave a scar."

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment, taking a moment before he stood up straight and walked back onto the dirt path towards Haven, praying to the Maker that He would not guide her to be by His side. Not just yet.

She was still needed here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cullen, still not realizing how deep he's in it.
> 
> Work has been super crazy the past couple of days, and I haven't had much time to write. Sorry for the delays!


	9. Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana has visitors during recovery.

The sun filtered through the window glass and the thin material of the drapes, warming Ellana's skin as she dosed peacefully on the cot in the cabin at Haven. Josephine quietly sat down on a chair next to the Herald's bed, a steaming cup of tea in either hand. She placed one of them on the nightstand next to her and brought the other cup close to her lips, blowing gently onto the surface of her scalding hot drink.

The steam from Ellana's cup rose into the air with the scent of chamomile, and the Herald stirred, her eyes flicking over to the tea before shifting towards the Ambassador. "Lady Montilyet," she began, rising onto her forearms as she attempted to sit up in the bed. She stopped when Josephine leaned forward and placed a gentle hand onto Ellana's shoulder and shook her head.

"Please, don't let me disturb you," Josephine insisted kindly, and Ellana obliged, moving back into her comfortable resting position. Josephine rested her back against the chair, sitting up straight. "Adan has finally allowed us to come visit, and I thought I would check in on you and see how you are doing."

"I see," Ellana replied, starting to move onto her side to better look at the Ambassador before she hissed in pain, giving up halfway through her attempt. She chuckled darkly, a hand coming up to rub her temple in annoyance. "I'm afraid I'm poor company right now."

"Are you still in pain?" Josephine inquired, her eyes flickering over to where Ellana's chest would be if not covered by blankets. "Adan was almost all too willing to go into the... details, but I asked him to abstain."

"It only hurts if I try to move. Or breathe deeply," Ellana answered with a humorous lilt to her voice. Even from her profile view of the Herald, Josephine could see the wry, almost self-deprecating smirk that had come over her face. "So I guess I mean to say, yes. I'm not terribly good at this kind of thing, funnily enough."

"I'm sure Adan could give you herbs for the pain," Josephine suggested, taking note of the way Ellana shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

Ellana turned her head slightly to catch Josephine's worried expression, and her smile turned more reassuring. "I am fine, Josephine. Please, stop fretting. I've had enough of that the past few days from Adan. He's pretends to be all grumpy, but he's just a big mother hen." Her words caused an eruption of protestive grumbling from the other side of the cabin, and her resulting laughter quickly turned into a wince. She coughed slightly before glancing at Josephine. "See? He's still sitting in here, just waiting for the chance to mother me. Oh, please, help me sit up. I feel like an invalid talking to you like this."

Josephine quickly set to work, forming the pillows into a neat pile and helping Ellana sit up next to them. "Much better," Ellana sighed in relief, and Josephine handed her the cup of tea that she had left on the nightstand. "For me? Thank you." At Josephine's nod, she accepted the cup and took a deep sip of the tea, the soothing hot liquid bringing her a semblance of peace. Ellana's free hand wrapped into the bed sheets, her fingers tightening against the rough material as she stared ahead in silent contemplation. Josephine merely watched her quietly, slowly sipping on her own cup of tea as she waited for the Herald to come out of her thoughts. Ellana eventually turned her eyes back to the diplomat, her expression in a pained grimace. "I- I need to apologize to everyone, don't I?"

Josephine blinked in surprise, lowering the cup from her lips as she regarded the Herald in confusion. "Apologize? Whatever for?"

"I caused a bit of a fuss, getting injured like this," Ellana muttered. Her fingers absently trailed down her torso, tracing the map of the now-healing wound on her chest. "I was reckless, and - it could have caused the end of the world. I have to stay alive so that I can finish what has been started."

"Lady Lavellan," Josephine smiled gently, setting her tea next to Ellana's before she leaned in and took her hands into her own. Ellana looked up in surprise at the contact, but she did not pull away from her grasp. Josephine's hands were almost hot from holding the teacup, and the warmth seeped from her hands and into Ellana's, dispersing the cold from her exposed fingers. "We are just happy to see that you have recovered. I am incredibly relieved myself, to be quite honest - I think of you - the Inquisition thinks of you - as more than just a means to seal the Breach. I hope that you can see that."

The sincerity in Josephine's voice struck a chord somewhere in Ellana's chest, and she almost flushed in a mix of embarrassment and flattery. "Ah... thank you, Josephine," she managed to whisper quietly, and Josephine merely squeezed her hands lightly before pulling back before picking up her tea and taking another sip. Ellana shifted uncomfortably in the bed, clearing her throat. "I, um... Do you know if Commander Cullen will visit as well?" When she realized what she had asked, the color of her cheeks deepened even further. "And, uh - Leliana, too, of course. And Cassandra," she added quickly with a rush; but despite her poor attempts to hide her feelings, Josephine had already come to her own conclusions.

Josephine schooled her expression and stopped her lips from quirking into a smile at the Herald's obvious infatuation. This was interesting - she had suspected, but now that she had proof... "I apologize, Lady Herald. I do not know if or when they will visit; but I am sure it will be sooner than later. Commander Cullen has been... concerned. As has everyone else."

Ellana whipped her head to look at Josephine, her eyes wide and her entire face now an incredible shade of pink. "He... has been? I - I mean, that's... I did not mean to worry anyone."

"Of course, Lady Herald," Josephine assured her sweetly, but her eyes sparkled in a way that warned Ellana of danger. "Please, let us speak of more pleasant things. A most hilarious incident occurred just the other day..."

\--**--

Cullen paced back and forth in his office, his brows furrowed deeply in thought as his feet wore a path into the floor. A week had passed since the Herald had been returned to Haven in secret, barely clinging to life. All those who know of her injury had waited with bated breath for news of her condition, and he was no exception.

The first few days had been the worst - Adan rarely left the cabin except to grab more supplies, and he had stayed infuriatingly tight-lipped on her status. "She's still alive," he would reply irritably when Cullen would corner him as he gathered supplies from his apothecary, only frowning in annoyance when the Commander attempted to loom over him intimidatingly. "I wont say any more, Commander."

Instead Leliana would update him quietly, a sealed note waiting on his desk when he returned from drilling the troops. His fingers would always hesitate for a moment as he stared at the letter in trepidation, questioning if the news would be good. But he quickly give in, tearing into the seal and unfurling the note, reading the contents hungrily.

On the third day, the daily note informed him that her fever had broke. "Adan believes the infection gone," Leliana had written in her beautiful script. The heavy streams of ink showed that he quill had rested heavily on the page, his only indication of her excitement at the news. "She will live, Cullen."

Nearly four days had passed since he had received that note and Adan had given them leave to see the Herald, but he found himself unable to muster up the courage to go see her. The image of her nearly motionless in Cassandra's arms had been burned into his mind, a terror that slipped into his nightmares and caused him to wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he raised his voice to call out. "It's unlocked."

He turned to face his visitor, expecting a reporting soldier. His arms uncrossed when he saw who actually stood in the threshold, his face morphing into an expression of concern. "Josephine? Is something wrong?"

Josephine stood in the doorway, her hand still resting on the handle. She seemed out of breath and she leaned against the frame, taking a few deep breaths before she straightened. "Cullen. You must go to the cabin."

"What? What's happened?" he asked, striding to Josephine. "Did something happen to Lady Lavellan?"

"Please, just go," Josephine urged, making space for him to pass by her. "It's urgent."

He nodded to her and darted past her, making a beeline towards the gates of Haven. Josephine watched him leave with a small smile on her face, readjusting her clothes and dusting herself off before she closed the door, humming her favorite tune and strolling back towards the chantry with a spring in her step.

\--**--

Cullen passed through the gates of Haven with little fanfare. The nights had become colder than usual with the winter storms, and his boots crunched through the snow as he nearly ran towards the woods, rocks and trees passing by in him a blur as he approached the cabin. Cullen opened the door and slipped in quietly, closing the door behind him with an inaudible click. He crossed the room quickly, his heart pounding as he turned to the opening of the other room and peered inside.

He found Ellana sitting up in her cot, resting against the pillows that Josephine had stacked up for her earlier. Her marked hand ghosted over her wound as she grumbled to herself, the light from the mark washing her in a slight green glow. A few torches lined the walls and a half-burned candle sat on her nightstand as she held a book in her other hand, squinting at the words on the page. She looked up when she heard him approach, her eyes widening as she recognized him. "C-Commander?" she exclaimed, shifting to sit up straight and setting the book onto her lap. "I- you are here."

"Yes," he replied, rather uselessly in his opinion, and took a half-step forward. "Josephine told me that... there was something urgent." His eyes roamed over her form as he took her in, trying to replace the memory of her deathly stillness. The color had returned to her face, a healthy pink glow filling her cheeks as she smiled at him hesitantly. Her hair was plaited into a large, loose braid that hung over her shoulder and tied with the same dark green ribbon, now washed and cleaned of any lingering bloodstains.

"Something urgent?" Ellana muttered to herself in bewilderment before her cheeks reddened even further. "Oh, Creators. That meddling... I - no, there is nothing urgent. I'm sorry that Josephine misled you."

"Oh," he said dumbly, staring at her for a moment before he cleared his throat. "In that case, I should take my leave. I didn't mean to interrupt your rest."

"No! Please stay," Ellana interrupted quickly, her cerulean eyes sparkling in the candlelight as she waved him towards the chair next to her. "I have not seen you since... for a while."

He winced slightly at the small hurt in her voice. "I apologize," he stammered, a hand coming up to rub his neck as he regarded her, slowly walking towards the chair and settling into it heavily. "I meant to come sooner. How are you feeling?"

She turned her head to look at him, laughing softly as she waved a hand at her surroundings. "I've been stuck in this bed and having Adan fuss over me at every turn, and this wound itches and aches like no other. So, mostly terrible."

He grimaced at her words, leaning back against the chair as he tried to find a comfortable position in her presence. "I do not doubt it. I'm glad that you pulled through."

"Me too," Ellana grinned, her fingers toying with her braid as she tried to find a way to occupy her hands. "Although I could've done without the stabby bits. Who would've thought that swords hurt?"

He gave her a half-hearted smile, her injury still too fresh for him to laugh about it. "I pray this is a one-time experience."

She merely smiled tightly then, a sadness drifting behind her eyes. "One can only can hope."

He unthinkingly lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing some of her hair from her face as he gazed at her, his expression torn as he leaned into her. "You must - you must be more careful, Lady Lavellan," he whispered, his eyes flickering around the curves of her face. "I couldn't..." He rubbed his thumb tenderly against her cheek, and her lips parted slightly as she stared at him with wide eyes, her heart caught in her throat and rendering her speechless. He caught her expression and cleared his throat, standing abruptly. "I - forgive me."

He barely heard her call after him as he rushed out of the room, unable to explain his actions to even himself. He had definitely crossed over a line that he wasn't sure he would be able to back away from.

Ellana continued to sit still on the bed, her hand trembling as it rose to her cheek. She could still feel the warmth of his fingers as it seeped through his gloves, the sensation of soft leather pressing into the sensitive skin of her face and the raw pain in his eyes as he had stared at her mixing into an emotion that nearly burst out of her chest. "Oh," she breathed out, her fingers moving to curl about her heart. "Sweet, merciful creators."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Ellana doesn't know he likes her at this point, she's pretty much hopeless.


	10. Swordplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana asks a question.

Cullen sat at his desk, turning a quill between his fingers as he tried to read the reports coming in from the Hinterlands. The refugees were beginning to recover from the devastation, and the Inquisition presence seemed to curb the frequency of raids by rogue mages or templars. The candelight cast shadows onto his papers and he squinted, his vision blurring from fatigue. He leaned back into his chair, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. The day had been long, but he hand found himself unable to sleep and thought that he would fill his time with work - but now, he found himself also unable to concentrate. He rose from his seat and moved to the door of his office, opening it and nearly jumping out of his skin when he came to be face-to-face with the Herald.

"Maker's breath!" he sputtered, leaning against the door in shock. Ellana stood in front of him, her eyes wide and her hand lifted into the air as if ready to knock on the door. 

She lowered her hand slowly, her lips forming a wry smile as she took in his expression and his state of disarray. His usually perfect hair had been mussed by what she assumed had been him running his hands through it constantly as he grumbled at the reports, and he had actually taken off his breastplate to reveal the undershirt that he wore underneath. "Commander."

Cullen cleared his throat, straightening his posture and tried to regain some of his dignity. "Lady Lavellan. You startled me."

"And you me," she replied with a smile, her eyes shining from the glow of the torchlight in his office. She then cleared her throat as well, her hands coming together as she wrung them nervously. "I'm sorry, it's a bit late, but..."

"It's no problem," he answered quickly, his hand tightening on the door handle as he regarded her, trying to control the racing of his heart. "I was just about to take a walk to clear my head."

"Oh." She considered him a moment, tilting her head slightly. Her hands now moved to her hair, and she worried at her lip, mulling over her next words. "I - do you mind if I join you?"

He hesitated for a moment as their eyes met. "Not at all," he finally responded, closing the door behind him. "I could use the company."

He grabbed a torch from the wall and tried to figure out something to say to her as he began to walk towards the gate of Haven. Her eyes focused on the path ahead of them as she fell into step with him, and she was unnervingly quiet. They had not spoken since he had made a fool of himself in the cabin, and he was still waiting for her to chastise him for overstepping his boundaries. He glanced over to Ellana mid-thought and noticed that she had brought a hand up to her torso, a wince on her face. He came to a stop, examining her in concern. "Are you alright?"

"What?" Ellana started, lost in her own thoughts. "Oh. I... It still hurts a bit if I move too much." Her eyes were bright in the torchlight, the shadows accentuating the angles of her face as she glanced up at his worried expression. She smiled ruefully, waving off his concern. "Really, I'm alright. If I stay in bed one more day, I will go insane."

He chuckled softly at her stubbornness before starting down the path again. Cullen nodded to a soldier stationed at the gates, who then opened the main doors for them and allowing them to pass through. He began to slowly guide them around the frozen lake, the days-old snow crunching quietly beneath their boots as they circled the shore. Ellana looked down at her feet and grimaced.

"Is something wrong?" Cullen asked, noticing her discomfort.

"It's nothing," Ellana replied with a frown, and he sent her a disbelieving look. She sighed, waving a hand at her feet. "It's just - I'm not used to wearing these heavy boots. Or shoes at all, really."

"Do the Dalish not wear shoes?" Cullen couldn't imagine walking through the snow without his boots to keep out the chill - although, he considered, the apostate seemed to refuse to wear anything on his feet despite the weather. 

"Not usually, no," Ellana answered with a laugh. "The Dalish like to feel connected to the world, to feel the earth thrum beneath their feet."

Cullen did not miss the way she seemed to exclude herself, the slightly mocking tone of her voice as she spoke of her people. "And yet you are wearing shoes."

"Solas may have magical feet, but it's damned cold to me," she muttered, and he couldn't help the smile that crossed his face at her words. "I've stepped on too many angry insects and jagged rocks to not learn to appreciate your people's more practical idea of footwear. If only it were not so heavy! I feel like I am walking through soup."

He snorted at the imagery. "Be glad that you do not have to wear metal greaves. Or worse yet, run in them through mud. Templar training was very thorough in that regard."

Ellana looked horrified for a moment before it morphed into thoughtfulness, her brows furrowing as she contemplated. "That reminds me," she mumbled, looking up at him. "I was going to ask you a question. About training."

"Right," he replied, not surprised at her curiosity. Ellana seemed to be a fount of questions about templars, mages, and general life in the circles; as a Dalish elf, her interactions with the Chantry and the Circles of Magi had been understandably non-existent.

She took in a deep breath, and then let it out in a soft puff of air, watching her breath take form in the cold air in an attempt to ease her nervousness. "Could you - teach me how to use a sword?"

He looked down at her, surprised at her request. Visions of her sprawled out in the snow, chest heaving came into his mind unbidden, and he cleared his throat. "I - why do you want to learn?"

She twisted her hands together once more, her fingers tightly clenching each other before she answered. "I - my injury, the excursion to the Storm Coast - it was my fault."

"I-" he stopped himself before he once again said something that he would regret. "I was wondering what exactly happened."

"I failed," she replied bluntly and with no small amount of self-loathing. "I endangered myself and everyone else because of my recklessness, and because a wooden bow has no chance against a sharp metal stick." He fell silent at her rage and she sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry, I just... I would feel better if I have a better way to handle close-ranged combat than just smacking someone with my bow."

He stopped walking and turned to her, his eyes considering. "I can teach you," he answered, but then his brow furrowed. "Why me, though? There are many qualified swordsmen in Haven."

She seemed to flush slightly then, her eyes moving downwards. "You used to be a templar, and you teach all of the recruits so well. I thought, perhaps - are you too busy? I don't-"

"Maker, no!" he interrupted, shaking his head in denial. "I just... of course, Lady Lavellan. I would be honored to assist you."

Her fingers once again found themselves toying with her hair, and she made an inaudible noise of disgust to herself before she forcefully pulled her hands down to her sides. "Ellana," she corrected him softly, a shy smile crossing her face as she looked up at him. 

His head shot up, and he looked at her in confusion, unable to catch what she said. "Pardon me?"

"My name. Ellana. Please... 'Lady Lavellan' sounds so impersonal." She bit the inside of her lip nervously. He had no idea where the self-assured Herald had gone, but the gentler side of her was endearing.

Ellana. He had almost forgotten that she had a personal name. Her eyes were fixed on him and filled with some kind of hope, and he realized that perhaps that was exactly the problem. Despite her insistence that she was not the chosen of Andraste, all saw her as a symbol of hope rather than as a person, and that caused them to treat her differently, as if she was otherworldly. But he had seen her bleed, see her falter and fear, and he knew that she was mortal and flawed just like everyone else. He remembered the way that her lips had parted slightly at his touch, her eyes wide as he had wanted nothing more but to lean in and kiss her. He opened his mouth to try to form the syllables, but found that even now he could not say her name. It seemed blasphemous, somehow. So he quirked a smile instead, nodding to her. "Then call me Cullen."

The brilliant smile he received warmed him, and his name seemed to come more easily to her. "Thank you, Cullen."

They continued to walk around the lake in companionable silence, enjoying each other's company. Ellana admired the moonlight shining off of icy surface of the lake, gathering her courage before she finally broached the subject that he was afraid to address. "Cullen, I - thank you for worrying about me."

He froze for a moment before relaxing when he realized that she was not accusing him, and he glanced down at her. "It... does not take much effort," he admitted. "You are a little..."

"Unpredictable?" she guessed, and she laughed softly when he nodded in confirmation. "I know. I... must get better about that. I realize now that it is not only my life that I am risking. Cassandra tried to tell me, but... I'm afraid I must be told simple things multiple times."

He sighed, his forceful breath fogging the air. How could he admit to her that it was not merely his concern for the fate of the world that drove him to this madness? But she was the Herald, and it was not appropriate - so he shoved his emotions deep inside, trying not to feel whatever was causing him to think on her so fondly. "It isn't simple. You have a heavy weight on your shoulders - anyone would struggle to understand."

She fell quiet at his words, focusing on the ground as they walked. They continued in silence as they made a full circle around the lake, and she stopped in front of the gates. "Thank you for humoring me, Cullen. I cannot wait for our lessons - when do you think we could begin?"

He considered her seriously, planning their course of action in his mind. "Perhaps we should meet at this hour tomorrow. There'd be less prying eyes this late."

First her eyes lit up, and then her smile turned sly as she rounded up on him. "At this time? Why, Commander, that almost sounds like an invitation. What would that do to my reputation?"

"An invitation?" he sputtered, utterly flabbergasted. "I have no idea what you-" he then flushed, suddenly realizing the unintended implications of what he said. "I don't - I didn't..."

He stopped fumbling when he heard her laugh genuinely, a melodious, sweet sound that he didn't know she was even capable of. "Ah, please forgive me for having fun at your expense," she giggled, her eyes still twinkling at his embarrassment. "Sometimes I cannot help myself. I will take my leave now; meet you here tomorrow, Commander."

She then turned on her heel and strode off through the gates, leaving Cullen red-faced as he watched her leave. He ran a gloved hand through his hair once more, sending his hair into further disarray. Maker's breath, that woman was going to be the death of him.


	11. Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen knocks Ellana around.

The next night found Ellana waiting in the training yard and staring up at the stars, her hands clasped behind her back as she rocked on her feet, waiting for the Commander to show. She passed the time by finding the constellations that she knew by heart; Mythal's scales of justice that burned bright in the southern skies, the starry sun of Elgar'nan which foiled his greatness in the light of day. And then there was Fen'Harel, his starlit eyes warning her people to never turn their heads in his direction; to never take the path that his light revealed, for it only held death and destruction.

She then turned to the Breach raging in the sky, and frowned at the green swirling clouds marring the once beautiful night sky. She wondered once more what lay beyond the maelstrom - the veil that was ripped apart so violently in the explosion. Had she not been there, once? They told her that she had fallen out of the Breach, but she couldn't remember anything. The explosion at the Conclave survived only as fuzzy images in the back of her mind, splashes of color without form and dancing just out of reach. Nothing that she tried could bring them closer to her, and it infuriated her.

Ellana stared down at the mark on her palm. It was a sickly green like the broken sky above, growing darker as it reached the center and dug further into her flesh. If she looked at it long enough, she suddenly felt as if she would be pulled into herself, a dark, empty void burned into her that she was unsure if she could overcome. Whenever she closed the rift, the magic would make her both dizzy and hot as it thrummed through her veins, an energy that burst from within and without and collided inside of her.

Keeper Deshanna once told her that the Creators were all-knowing and powerful beyond all measure. That despite the confines of the prison that the Dread Wolf had cast upon them, the Creators still held influence over the world. That when her people had called out in the darkness of the Exalted March of the Dales for Mythal's protection, Mythal heard their cries and wept, her tears powering the complex spells she weaved to ensure that the elvhen would survive to rise another day.

She turned over her hand, and the eerie glow shone through the muscles and tendons, illuminating her skin in a soft glow. 'Did Mythal ever dream of this?' she wondered darkly. 'Is this how she meant for us to rise again?'

Suddenly, she heard footsteps - leather boots crunching on grass - and she closed her eyes, listening. Carefully measured steps of an even cadence, metal armor that clinked softly into the night air. She turned and opened her eyes, smiling as Cullen stood in front of her.

"Hello," she greeted him brightly. She wore plain breeches and a loosely fitted blouse, her usually flowing black hair tied up into long ponytail. He could see the beginnings of her scar on her exposed skin, and he politely averted his eyes, refocusing on her face. 

She noticed that he held something in his hands, and he suddenly tossed it at her. She managed to catch it with minimal fumbling, but she stumbled due to the awkward shape and the unexpected weight. She looked down to find a wooden practice sword, and she examined it momentarily before hefting it up, testing its balance and feel in her hand. She looked up at Cullen, who held a small wooden buckler in one hand and his own wooden sword in another, and found him examining her sword-arm carefully.

"Why don't I get a shield?" She questioned, raising a brow and wiggling the fingers of her empty hand in his direction.

"I assume if you're going to be carrying around your bow, a shield would be out of the question for you," he explained. "Are you - are you sure you want to learn how to use a sword rather than a dagger?"

She grimaced, before glancing down at the weapon in her hand. "Swords are - I like some distance between me and the things that I am stabbing."

He considered her but found himself unable to understand her reasoning. Instead of trying to convince her otherwise, he fluidly shifted into a defensive stance. "Try to hit me," he commanded, his buckler raised.

She looked at the sword in her hand and then at Cullen before shrugging. She swung wildly at him and he sidestepped her, watching as she stumbled away from him, almost tripping over her own feet. 

"Again," he commanded, motioning to her with his sword hand.

She eyed him warily before attacking him more carefully, a swift but unpracticed strike that was quickly blocked by his shield.

"With a bow, you do not have to consider your mark's weapon as a threat because they cannot use it against you," he lectured, absentmindedly signaling her to try again. "But in close combat like this, you must take into account the movement of your combatant as well as the weapon he wields." 

He struck the side of her hand with a blow and she winced, grabbing her hand as she dropped her sword into the dirt. She glanced up at him sheepishly and making a face at the bruise already forming on her skin. "I've seen enough," Cullen nodded, lowering his sword and shield. "You must learn the fundamentals before we go any further."

She sighed, flexing her fingers before leaning over and picking up the sword from the ground. "Am I going to be sore in the morning?"

He laughed, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he watched her sigh in resignation. "Undoubtedly."

Ellana snickered, waving her uninjured hand in the air with a flourish. "Meeting at night, leaving a lady so sore she can barely walk straight in the morning... Ser Cullen, I might make a legend of you yet."

He groaned, placing a hand on his face in exasperation and embarrassment. "Maker's breath!"

She laughed, a tinkling sound in the night.

\--**--

Ellana's body was covered in a sheen of sweat despite the cold air blowing through her thin clothes. She began to regret her decision to learn from the fierce Commander; her arms ached, shaking as muscles she had never used before woke and protested at their treatment, and her scar on her chest ached, an itchy, pulling sensation that left her short of breath. But she refused to show weakness, and so she soldiered on the best she could, grateful that Cullen took the time to teach her despite her lack of talent.

She held the practice sword tightly in her hand, her feet spread out in an attempt at a defensive position. "Cullen, can I ask you something?" Ellana said, breathing heavily. 

Cullen ignored her, brandishing his sword. "Mind your feet - the wind could knock you over if it blew hard enough," he scolded, demonstrating exactly what he meant by suddenly lashing out and knocking her onto the ground. She let out a sound of protest before tumbling into the dirt, groaning.

He staked his sword into the ground and leaned onto it. "Your question?" he asked innocently, managing to hide the smirk from his lips but not his eyes as he looked down on her.

She glowered at him, still on her back, and scrambled to bring herself to her knees. Her ragged breaths slowly smoothed into regularity, and she examined him quietly. His eyes met hers and he felt almost uncomfortably at her scrutiny, but the moment before he tore his eyes away she spoke. "How did you get that scar? The one on your lip?"

He fell silent, and she feared that she asked something that she shouldn't have. Her eyes slid to his mouth, and she admired the way that the scar cleaved through his lip, snaking up to his cheek. His smiles were now slightly crooked, the skin pinching around the damaged skin, but it somehow enhanced his charm. Even now, when he opened his mouth to speak, the scar moved with him, and she couldn't bring herself to hear her eyes away. "Kirkwall," he answered, pulling the sword from the ground and straightening. "After my Knight-Commander... when I joined with the Champion, in the confusion I ended up fighting a few of my brothers. I tried to reason with them, but then they attacked without warning. I didn't move back fast enough or bring my shield up high enough, and I took part of the blade to my face."

Her eyes were soft as she met his, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her hand slowly reached up to trace the scar, and he froze, his eyes wide. The scar sunk into his face, the soft pads of her fingers able to discern the valley that it created from the rest of his face. His skin was warmer than her fingers, her fingers drawing warmth from his skin as it ghosted along his face. Only once she started touching him did she realize that this was probably wholly inappropriate. She was the 'Herald,' and he was the Commander. But had he not touched her like this before? She could still remember the weight of his thumb as he gazed at her with a swirl of emotions sitting behind his eyes, unable to voice what he was actually feeling. Just how she found herself unable to tell him how much he meant to her, that the obvious pain in his eyes when he spoke of Kirkwall caused her to feel strange, a clenching of her gut and heart as she hurt with him.

"You survived. It sounds like you were fast enough to me," she whispered, her fingers pausing in their movement. His eyes turned tender as he gazed at her, his lips starting to return her smile. She held her breath and they both stayed almost motionless, unable to figure out to proceed from here. He only needed to lean forward just that little bit to kiss her, but - inappropriate. He tore his eyes from hers, pulling himself away from her fingers as she stood up straight. She lowered her hand back to rest on her sword, her disappointment manifesting in the renewed coldness of her fingertips. 

"Get up," he managed, his voice rough. She couldn't tell if his cheeks were starting to turn pink from the cold or what she did. "And try not to let me knock you over this time."

Ellana groaned, using her practice sword to leverage herself up as she struggled to her feet. Her other hand came up to span part of her torso as she rose, wincing at the pain on her chest. Cullen watched her worriedly, and when she noticed she flashed him a reassuring smile. "Who would've thought that waving around a pointy stick would be so difficult?"

"Perhaps we should stop for tonight," he suggested, his gaze wary as he continued to watch her struggle. "You cannot learn everything in one night."

Ellana breathed a sigh of relief, covering it up with a cough. "Of course, Commander. I can't say I'm at my best right now."

They were standing too close together, but Ellana couldn't bring herself to step back from him. Their breaths mingled in the air as they regarded each other, her parted lips a temptation. She broke the moment this time, lifting up the practice sword as she smiled hesitantly at him. "Same time tomorrow?"

He nodded, mindlessly taking the sword from her hands. Her heart beat way too fast as her fingers brushed against his gloved ones, trying to fight the blush that heat her cheeks. "If you're up to it," he answered mostly seriously, his eyes flicking toward her torso.

She snorted then, a smirk twisting her lips. "What lady could resist being knocked to the dirt? I'll be here." Her hand lifted to his shoulder, sinking into the warm fur of his mantle before she pulled her hand down his arm, resting near his wrist. "Thank you again, Cullen. This means the world to me."

He didn't respond to her then, and she flushed even more, nodding to him as she walked around him and back towards the gates of Haven. She turned back to glance at him and saw him watching her; he nodded in response as she waved in farewell, his eyes never leaving her.

"Good night... Ellana," he whispered softly at her retreating form, her name barely audible as it passed his lips.


	12. Strawberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finds Ellana eating strawberries.

Cullen began his second loop around the lake of Haven, pondering ways to effectively train the new recruits that had arrived to the small town in waves. Ellana's latest excursion to the Hinterlands inspired many refugees without prospects to make the pilgrimage. Unfortunately, that meant that many of them were young and with little to no combat experience, and he was struggling to find a way to efficiently manage the growing pool of talent. The number of seasoned combatants were becoming increasingly outnumbered by green recruits, and it was both a blessing and a curse. Gathering so many men and women willing to fight, to die for their cause was a feat he only had the Herald - Ellana - to thank. But by the Maker, what we he to do with them?

As he ventured past the now-empty training ground and back into the forest once more, indecision continued to plague his thoughts. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and drew him out from his musings. He squinted into the distance and saw a figure sitting next to a tree. The fuzzy black blob turned into a body and a head of hair as he approached, and he recognized Ellana. Her eyes were closed, her back resting against the snowy bark as a small basket rested in her lap.

He stopped moving when she blindly picked up something red from the basket and brought it up to her lips. Strawberries. Where she had found the fruit in the midst of a war, he could not guess; but whoever brought it to her had his eternal gratitude as she took a delicate bite into its flesh. Her face lit up with every mouthful, and her eyes stayed closed as she consumed it slowly. When she finished, she set the leafy stem onto a piece of red cloth, and he watched, entranced as she gently wiped a droplet of the juice from the corner of her lips and licked it off the tip of her finger.

Desire stirred within him, and he reigned in his thoughts, feeling uncomfortable watching her without her knowledge. He stomped as loudly as he could towards her to announce his presence, and his tactic worked, for she quickly covered the basket with her hands as best as she could and looked up at him sheepishly. She relaxed when she recognized him, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “Cullen,” she called out to him, waving a hand to invite him closer. “I did not expect to see anyone out here at this time.”

He stopped in front of her and crossed his arms. “Ellana,” he greeted her, pausing only for a second before saying her name. It had become easier to say as the days had gone by, though it still felt strange to be so informal with her.

"Another walk? Is there something on your mind?" she questioned, her smile growing when he nodded in assent. "Can I help at all?"

He hesitated for a moment, not wishing to burden her with his worries; but then he noticed her hopeful expression and he crumbled, lowering himself to be eye level with her by crouching into the snow. "You've inspired many to make the journey to Haven; and I'm trying to figure out the best way to use them."

"Are you telling me we have too many people?" she asked curiously, her voice tinged with amusement as her fingers traced the basket in her lap.

"No," he answered with a sigh. "We are nowhere near the size of an army. But - there are too many for us to train properly."

She brought the fingers of her left hand to her lips in thought, absently tracing the skin beneath her fingers. "Perhaps we must prepare them in waves. Take the most promising and train them, then the next group."

"I'd considered that," he replied, shaking his head. "It could work, but I'm not sure if we have time on our side."

"Time," she murmured to herself, her voice so muted that he could barely hear the words. She pulled her hands from her lips and gazed at the mark, the easy smile falling from her face. 

He felt his heart twinge at its disappearance and the somber expression that had taken over. "Ellana -" he began gently, but she interrupted him by grabbing a strawberry from the basket in her lap and holding it out to him.

"Do you want one? I'm good at sharing," she asked haltingly, a hesitant smile crossing her lips. Her eyes held that infinite sadness that he had seen before in the cabin as she recovered from her wound, and they now begged him to change the subject. He felt his mouth clamp shut and the words dry up in his throat, and he silently leaned over and took the strawberry from her fingers, examining the fruit carefully. When was the last time he had seen a strawberry so close? The seeds of the fruit dimpled its skin, and it looked so red and inviting against the dark leather of his gauntlet. Fruits had been one of the first foods to disappear when the war between templars and mages began. The delicacies had already been expensive before the war, but as fields were razed or looted by either side of the conflict, they had become nearly impossibly to find.

Ellana’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You, um… eat it,” she informed him haltingly, confused by his close examination of her gift.

He looked at her, perplexed by her comment before he let out a soft laugh. "Ah - no, it's just... it's been a long time since I've seen one of these. Fruits have not been easy to come by in Haven."

Ellana cleared her throat, looking away from him. "I may have - asked a favor or two." She looked up at him, looking horribly guilty. "I know it's not good use of resources, but -"

She suddenly stopped talking when he shook his head at her and bit into the fruit. The taste was sweet and tangy on his tongue, a welcome burst of flavor on his tired palate. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, and he sighed happily. He shot a glance at her with lidded eyes, and she had turned a curious shade of pink. “I agree, but - your secret is safe with me.”

She grinned at him, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth before offering him another one. He lowered himself to the ground carefully, sitting across from her in the snow before he took it graciously from her fingers. She tried to talk around the fruit in her mouth, but only succeeded in letting out an incomprehensible warble. His lips quirked in a half smile, amused at her antics. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that with your mouth full.”

She pulled the berry from her mouth with a soft pop, her cheeks flushing deeper as she repeated herself. “I was just saying that - I’m glad I could share these with you. I feel less like a criminal when it’s not just me that benefits.”

He snorted incredulously at her concern, taking a large bite out of his own strawberry. “If this is the worst thing you do, Ellana, then I have great hope for the future of the Inquisition.”

She laughed brightly, grinning at him. “Don’t get your hopes up too soon. What if I escalate to those fancy Orlesian fruits? Think of the scandal!”

“I would turn a blind eye - if you shared with me,” he reassured her with a serious expression. “We would have to make a requisition order first, though…”

Her horrified expression brought forth a bark of uncontrolled laughter from him, and he carefully cleared his throat, trying to remove the smile from his face and failing. “It was a joke.”

She huffed before rolling her eyes at him. “I hate going through that process. By the Creators, I swear it takes twenty pieces of parchment just to get a piece of string,” she ranted. When she noticed his bemused expression, she blanched slightly. “You - you didn’t set all that up, did you?” 

“No,” he replied easily, and she sighed in relief. He quirked a brow at her, still smiling. “Although I did approve it. Does our Herald have issue with our official channels?”

Her eyes widened and she shoved a strawberry in her mouth, pointing at it and shrugging when he looked at her expectantly for further explanation. He laughed once more, leaning forward and stealing a strawberry from her basket.

She chewed slowly and swallowed, throwing the stem onto the cloth. “You seem to be enjoying my delinquency well enough.”

“I suppose there are some benefits to skirting around the rules,” he murmured, and Ellana’s brows shot upwards at his words.

“Could you say that a little louder?” she teased, placing her hands under her chin and fluttering her eyelashes. “Did I just hear our Commander say that he is alright with not following the rules to the letter? Oh, the scandal!"

Cullen merely raised a brow and leaned over once more to grab a red berry, stiffening when he felt her ungloved hands flutter across his own. He looked up to meet her eyes, her fingers curling around his as she took in a harsh breath. She was so very beautiful, he decided as soft snowflakes fell onto her inky black hair and eyelashes, melting from her body heat. The cold reddened her cheeks almost to the hue of the strawberries just in his reach, high points of color on her pale face. The red juice of the fruit stained her lips and her tongue, creating a high contrast against the white of her teeth as her lips fell slightly apart, and he wanted to bring her into his arms and kiss her senseless. "Ellana."

Her name rough and low on his tongue caused her to simultaneously shiver and release his hand. "I wouldn't want you to ruin your reputation," she let out breathlessly, "by corrupting you with my wicked, wicked ways."

'A little late for that,' he thought absently as he slowly drew his hand back towards his side. He may have taken no vow of chastity, but the emotions that she brought out in him were a quagmire of which he knew he could not crawl out. 'Herald of Andraste,' he repeated to himself incessantly as he stared at her and flushing his wants from his mind. He had no words for her then, only feeling an incredible need to escape. He quickly brought himself to his feet while she watched him with an unreadable expression. "I should get back to my duties," he managed to excuse himself as he brushed the snow off of his pants, and she merely nodded mutely. "Enjoy your evening, Her-," he stopped speaking suddenly, struggling with her name once more. "Ellana."

"The troops will be fine, Cullen," she suddenly spoke as he began to turn around, and he looked back at her. "You will figure out a way."

He nodded in thanks for her kind words, facing towards Haven once more and walking back towards the town. He could feel her eyes on his back as he retreated from the confusion that she stirred within him, and he refused to look back. She was the Herald of Andraste, and he was the Commander of the Inquisition. She was meant for something greater than him, greater than all of them; but when all he could see were the curves of her lips and the tips of her dainty fingers strained red by a simple love of strawberries, he found himself unable to care. 

And it terrified him.


	13. Traveling (NEWEST!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana travels to Val Royeaux for the first time.

The weather was almost unbearably beautiful. The sun made its first appearance in weeks, shining brightly in a miraculously unclouded sky. Rays of sunshine beat away the chilly mountain air and revealed dark shadows disappearing on the horizon. Ellana watched the birds fly for warmer pastures, her eyes focusing on the movement while her mind settled heavily upon the source of her dark mood.

The angry mob that briefly gathered outside the chantry in the early morning had rattled Ellana more than she would have liked to admit. Traveling through the Hinterlands showed her ample proof that templars and mages did not have to coexist peacefully; however, she had clung to the illusion of a truce that had settled in Haven. She had stood motionless at the edge of the crowd as the collective anger grow, watching the men and women she had grown to respect circle each other threateningly. Paralyzed and unable to raise her voice, she helplessly stared at what she thought to be the end of the Inquisition.

She did not expect Cullen to immediately spring to action. All eyes were on him as he separated the loudest from both sides, sending each of them of them fierce glares as he berated them for their petty squabbles. The crowd was almost ready to disperse when Chancellor Roderick took advantage of the situation to question the validity and effectiveness of the Inquisition.

Chancellor Roderick. The man was infuriating, but she supposed she could not completely fault him for sticking with his beliefs. If only he was not so smarmy and pompous - it felt a bit like twisting the knife in the wound when he berated them in front of their own men. She had heard and seen the quiet murmurs and angry glances between the two sides in the weeks prior, but she had paid no mind. Despite the grumblings, the Inquisition seemed to function well together. In hindsight, she could see the cracks that had formed between the two forces like a dam ready to crumble. The anger spilled between the mages and templars felt almost like a personal failing; both sides blamed the other for the death of the Divine, and despite her efforts she was no closer to any sort of answer. The reward for her efforts was a trip to the capitol of Orlais to defend her now shaky faith in a fueding organization of which she originally wished no part.

She had entered the chantry with a heavy heart, ready to be immediately debriefed by Cassandra of Josephine. Instead, she found herself trying to keep herself on her feet as a human cannonball in the form of Lily launched herself at Ellana. The girl clung to her arms tightly, squealing and running her words together unintelligibly in her excitement. The child would not be deterred from separating Ellana from her duties, insisting that time be spent with her. Lily's hopeful face had dashed away all attempts of resistance, and Ellana allowed herself to be dragged through Haven. Lily stopped only when they reached a ledge overlooking the training grounds, and she tuggled Ellana to the cold stone, crawling into her lap and demanding to be regaled with tales of adventure. Ellana had merely laughed, happy to indulge the girl and pull her thoughts away from the present - until she revealed that she had to leave Haven once again.

"Do you have to go?" Lily whined at a pitch so high that Ellana cringed. She could almost hear the girl's lower lip jutting out into a pout as she protested loudly. "But you just got back!"

Ellana's fingers paused momentarily within blonde strands before she continued braiding Lily's hair, sighing softly at the girl's obvious displeasure. "You know I must, little one."

"I'm not lil'!" the girl grumbled obstinately under her breath as she squirmed in Ellana's lap. Lily deflated when she glanced over her shoulder and saw Ellana's apologetic gaze, huffing a puff of air through her nose as she accepted that her favorite person had to leave her. Again. "Where're you going now?"

Despite Lily's disappointed tone, Ellana couldn't help but smile at the girl's liveliness. In the few months since she and Cassandra had pulled the girl out of the rubble of her Hinterland home, Lily had already begun to come out of her shell. The quiet and grim air that had surrounded her fell away to reveal a bright and very opinionated little girl that had decided that the best place for Ellana to be was with her. 

Lily was often upset with Ellana.

Her eyes suddenly saw a flash of red and steel, and Ellana shifted her eyes from the sky. "Val Royeaux," she answered distractedly as she noticed the Commander in the corner of her eye. He stood tall and firm, his hands punctuating his statements as she heard him yelling at the troops, his words clear even from her perch on the wall. She felt her hidden smile growing wider as she listened to him, laughing under her breath. How many times would Cullen have to tell the recruits that they had shields in their hands before they actually understood? 

The girl twisted herself to stare at Ellana with her mouth agape. "Val Royeaux?"

Ellana snapped her focus back to Lily, slightly taken aback at her level of interest. The girl loved to hear of the far away lands that she traveled to, but never to the point of shock and uninhibited glee that now overcame her features. "Yes - why are you grinning?"

"My mommy is from Val Royeaux," Lily nearly vibrated with excitement as her eyes grew wider and wider. "She said all the ladies were beautiful, with birds in their hair. That they wore the prettiest shoes with stones just as pretty on their feet. That she'd... take me when I was bigger."

Ellana couldn't help the pang of sadness and anger when Lily's voice trailed off. Ellana gently tied the braid she had worked on with a ribbon before moving to thumb the liquid threatening to spill from the corners of Lily's eyes. "I can't take you this time, little one. It's too dangerous; but maybe I could bring you back a present. Would you like that?"

The girl's face brightened ever so slightly, and Ellana smiled at the small nod she received. The promise of a present had helped, but did not completely take her mind off of her losses. She glanced over to the training ground once more and found the recruits dispersing back into Haven, and an idea brought her into motion. She pulled the girl to her feet as she rose, holding her small hand within her own. "Come on, then. Let's do something fun, shall we? How do you feel about bothering Commander Cullen?"

\--**--

The road to Val Royeaux was not a trivial journey, even when traveling along the Imperial Highway. Age wore at the stones, sometimes causing them to become so weak that they crumbled beneath their feet. The days passed by slowly despite marauding bandits hiding in the shadows of trees and the outbursts of skirmishes between rogues and templars that would extend past the boundaries of the rolling countryside. The altercations delayed their travel, and despite Ellana, Varric, Cassandra, and Solas pushing their steeds to their limits towards the capitol of Orlais, the group could not make up for lost time.

Ellana wasn't sure of what she expected when she crossed the boundary between Orlais and Ferelden; but the reality was that she didn't even notice until Cassandra made mention of it. Her people rarely spoke of the human world except to curse it, but Ellana had always felt a hunger for knowledge of those far-off lands. The books she swiped from her Keeper and First as a child weaved tales of bloody conflict and strife, doomed love and gallant knights - and nothing had seemed so otherworldly than the tales of Orlais. The shemlen world had seemed so large and far beyond her reach, but now as she rode her hart down a ruined road with fields full of wildflowers flanking either side, she found herself feeling slightly homesick once again. Orlais was supposed to be different, a bright and beautiful place - but now she realized that perhaps home was not so much different than this new land. 

The wildflowers brought more pleasant imagery than reminiscing her childhood; an image of Cullen scowling at her with similar petals stuck into his hair sent her into a sudden fit of giggles. She could still hear the exasperation in his voice. "I look ridiculous," he had muttered to her when Lily moved far enough away to be unable to hear him. The girl had determined that the best way to interact with the Commander would be to braid flowers into his hair after declaring that 'boys should have flowers too.' To his credit, Cullen took it in stride (or perhaps defeat?) as he sat on the ground, allowing tiny fingers to quickly undo the effort he had put into his appearance that morning.

She had placed a hand on his arm then, unable to resist touching him whenever she could. A show of friendship, she convinced herself. "You look like a king," she had reassured him, her smile tinged with laughter. "Even more noble than King Calenhad of old."

He had tried to not look pleased at her words but failed miserably, his lips pulled into a slight smile that made her heart flutter.

The world around her came back to focus when she heard movement, noticing Varric casting her a glance with his eyebrows raised. Ellana coughed into her hand, battling to contain the laughter that caused her to spasm slightly. "Something funny, Herald?" the dwarf asked her carefully, lazily flicking the reigns of his pony as he evaluated her sudden good mood.

"A memory," Ellana replied, the smile receding from her face as she took on a more serious expression. "How close are we?"

"You know, Herald, asking every five minutes wont make a difference," Varric grumbled in her direction, daring to look affronted when Ellana cast him a withering glare. "What? You just asked!"

"That was almost a day ago, Varric," Ellana protested, her lips pursing as she continued to level a glare at the dwarf. "I've no idea what to expect."

"Look, the Imperial Highway is basically a straight shot to Val Royeaux." The dwarf's voice took on a bored, almost lecturing tone, as he had already explained this to the Herald countless times. "We just keep riding until we get there. It's easy."

Ellana huffed a breath, not willing to admit her extreme anxiety about traveling to the capitol city. Despite the familiarity of the plains, Ellana felt an inexplicable sense of dread that pulled her stomach to pieces. An ominous cloud had settled over her since their departure from Haven, and her companions had noticed without comment.

"You ready to be back with the real world, Herald?" Varric asked in a voice quiet enough that only she could hear. "It's been a bit unnerving seeing you quiet and spaced out."

Ellana replied with a twist of her lips that seemed more of a grimace than a smile, and Varric shook his head, unable to discern what was bothering her. Ellana looked away from his confused look to glance over at Cassandra. "I wonder what will greet us there," Ellana mused aloud, her eyes still on the Seeker in hopes that she would answer. "I've never been to Val Royeaux."

Cassandra, however, stayed silent, her eyes concentrated on the road but her mind obviously elsewhere. Although the Seeker was not prone to engaging in mindless conversation, she had also been unnervingly quiet throughout the journey. The news coming out of Val Royeaux about the seekers and templars had troubled her greatly, and it showed in her endlessly furrowed brow and the tic in her clenched jaw. Ellana bit her lip, taking a moment before she decided not to disturb Cassandra any further before glancing at her dwarf companion with a sly smile. "Varric?" she called out, only speaking again when she received his full attention. "Are we there yet?"

A deep sigh emanated from the dwarf as he questioned Andraste's choice in savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thought of Cullen with flowers in his hair makes me very, very happy.
> 
> Also - an update?!
> 
> Sorry everyone - I have been having an extreme case of writers block and busy work schedule, which, by the way, is a terrible combination. I wouldn't suggest it. Ever.


	14. Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana is startled by the mark.

"You can't hold the sword as if you're afraid of it," Cullen began, examining Ellana as she stood in front of him, the practice sword gripped tightly in her hand. "Your own sword is there to help you; treat it like it is."

Ellana sighed, lowering the weapon in exasperation at his words. "I've no idea what you mean."

He picked up his own practice sword and set the shield down before settling into a stance, his body loose but ready to react. She scrutinized him for a moment before nodding, moving slightly to mimic him.

"Did you only learn to use a bow?" Cullen asked, glancing at her attempt and walking up to her. His hands brushed against her legs as he guided them into a better stance, placing her legs slightly further apart from each other. "It seems strange to me, but I was never very good at archery."

Ellana bit her lip hard, trying to be completely clinical about Cullen's hands upon her thighs. "I am proficient with a dagger, but I really only used it to grant mercy to the animals I caught and to skin them. I... had to defend myself using it, once. I would not like to repeat the experience. It felt so - wrong."

He glanced up at her, straightening himself back into a standing position. "I just fail to see how a sword is any better. They are both tools of war." He began to adjust her arms, concentrating on improving her form and not how she felt against his hands.

She tried to ignore the way her body reacted to his closeness. "It's probably not rational but - a dagger feels so personal. You have to stare your opponent in the eyes to slit his throat, or feel like a coward by stabbing him in the back. A sword feels more honorable, somehow, as if I'm not a rogue sneaking in the dark."

He considered her position. "I suppose I can see how you would feel that."

"Don't think I don't still carry one on my person," she smirked, her voice humored. "I can't deny the usefulness of having one accessible. I just - don't want to use it unless I have to."

"Is your plan to be a walking arsenal?" Cullen questioned half-seriously, moving back from her and examining his adjustments to her form. 

"I'm almost there, aren't I? Why not go all the way. Do you think I could hide a greatsword on my person?" She mused, looking contemplative. "Perhaps I could stick it in my smallclothes; that'd be funny to pull out. So, how do I look, Commander?"

He coughed, clearing his throat before answering her. "Better," he affirmed, picking the shield back up. "Now, try to hit me and see the difference." 

Ellana stood still for a few moments, trying to memorize the feel of the stance. She then began to lunge at him with her sword when she suddenly screamed and fell, hitting the ground hard and curling into a ball. The mark in her hand flashed violently, a bright, sickly green that made him cover his eyes as he knelt beside her in the dirt. She stared at her hand and tried to move her fingers, failing as the current continued to pulse through her.

She looked up at him with a look of desperation, the wrist of her marked hand clutched by her other as she tried to unsuccessfully block the pain. He reached out his hand to her shoulder and concentrated, suppressing the magic that flowed around her like an angry storm.

The glow from her mark blinked out of sight as suddenly as it began, and she breathed heavily, staring at the mark. He gently squeezed her shoulder and she looked up at him, taking a deep breath and nodding that he could help drag her back to her feet.

"Does that happen often?" Cullen said softly, taking her marked hand between his own. 

"No," Ellana muttered distractedly, leaning against him. "Only when another rift opens or grows. This was - worse, than usual. I'll have to speak to Solas, and then Leliana." She looked up at him with a crooked smile. "I'll be fine. The worst of it is over."

"Humor me," he began softly, looking her over. "Let me escort you to them."

She looked up, ready to protest, before seeing the concerned expression on his face and sighing. "Of course. Lead the way."

He silently guided her as they walked through the dirt paths of Haven, and he remembered how pale she was when she was first delivered to the camp as prisoner, her breaths shallow the and mark threatening to consume her in an emerald flame.

He was angry at her then; believed, like all the others, that she had taken part in the explosion at the Conclave. When he heard that she could potentially close the rifts, he was skeptical and did not protest as loudly as Cassandra and some of the others - but he was definitely not pleased at the prisoner being their only hope of sealing the Breach.

How wrong had he been, how wrong were they all? Ellana held a light inside her rare among all peoples, a fierce determination and power of leadership that drew people to her like moths to a flame; and yet still she remained gentle and kind to all she came across, even perhaps to close that did not deserve it.

So now he would walk beside her wherever she would go; not simply because she was the Herald and the key to their salvation, but because she was Ellana, selfless and kind beyond all reason, and she moved him.


	15. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana and Cullen fight.

Ellana was rubbing her eyes as she read another one of Sister Leliana's reports when she heard a crisp knock on the door. Thankful for the distraction, she stood up and opened it slightly only to have Cullen barge in, his face dark and thunderous.

"What were you thinking!" Cullen raged without preamble, pacing up and down her quarters. 

A joke about him being so close to her bed sat on the tip of her tongue, but the look on his face, the way his jaw clenched, and his body as stiff as a board signaled to her that perhaps now was not the best time for her teasing. So instead she sighed, closing the door behind her to muffle the argument that she knew was about to ensue before she fully turned to speak to him. "I'm assuming this is about the mages. I thought we've already gone over this?"

"Of course it is!" Cullen nearly spat, his temper rising. "I know you haven't dealt with many mages before, Ellana, but they can be dangerous and they need to be guarded, for their sake and for ours! Giving them free reign in Haven is a nightmare!"

Ellana narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. "Are you calling me ignorant, Cullen? A clan's Keeper and First must be a mage. I've been around mages my whole life."

Cullen sighed, exasperated at her. "One or two mages is different than an entire circle - and much more different than all of the circles combined! A mage is susceptible to possession at all times, and there will be those who cannot resist temptation. If no one is there to keep watch over them - "

"Don't you think your Chantry takes this 'magic must serve man, not rule over him' a bit too far?" Ellana interrupted, crossing her arms. "Mages are people too, the last time I checked."

"You do not understand," he ground out, his voice still heated. "I do not wish them harm. I do not even have issue with their presence in Haven. But I do not want mages to just roam around and endanger everyone around them!"

Ellana frowned at him. "Didn't all of these mages pass their - test? Why would they be susceptible?"

Cullen sighed. "The mage rebellion dissolved all of the circles - and that includes the very young, the inexperienced, and the frail and old. All of these groups are more prone to possession, and these are trying times - a demon's promises can be tempting when you are suffering."

Ellana leveled her gaze at him. "What is stopping me from walking out there and shooting an arrow into everything in sight?"

He blinked at her, confused by the swift change in subject. "Your - "

"'Nothing,' is really the answer, Cullen." She waved a hand. "If I lost my mind, I could walk outside and try to kill everyone right now. I see mages the same way - their morality, their willpower, can be broken by a demon - but don't we all have our own limits? I refuse to treat them as if they are our prisoners."

"And what about the innocents who will perish if just one of them loses control? An abomination is not a trivial foe, Ellana. Many of our people would not be able to fight one and survive."

Ellana sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration. "What would you have me do, Cullen? What's done is done. I apologize if my actions have caused you undue grief, but I made a hard decision and I must stick to it, or we will be seen as unreliable, as Josephine said. Is there anything I can do - barring rescinding my terms - to help?"

Cullen's face was unreadable. "Only more templars would be of help at this point."

Ellana grimaced. "I think that path may be lost to us."

They stood in the center of her quarters, regarding each other quietly, the tension still thick in the air. Cullen straightened before speaking once more. "Please excuse me, Lady Lavellan. I'm sorry to disturb you."

Ellana uncrossed her arms, frowning at his formality. "Cullen - "

He had already slammed the door behind him before she could get a word in, and she flopped onto her bed, staring up at the patchwork ceiling. "Creators," she pleaded, uncertain of her decision. "Tell me I did the right thing."

The walls were silent, and she sighed, burying her head in her pillow in frustration.


	16. Elusive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen avoids Ellana.

No matter where she looked, Cullen seemed to elude her. The Commander would disappear at meal times, and slip out of any meetings so quickly that she never had a chance to speak to him. When she passed by him in Haven, he would greet her briefly and formally before rushing about his business. Their interactions had down-spiraled so quickly that no one could ignore the way that the growing friendship between the two had seemed to rip at the seams, and gossip had begun to spread around about the anger between the Herald and the Commander.

"Lady Herald," Leliana called to Ellana as she passed by her tent. "I wish to speak with you."

Ellana turned at the sound of Leliana's voice and stepped inside, nodding to the spymaster. "Hello, Sister Leliana. May I help you?"

Leliana eyed her thoughtfully, carefully formulating her question. "Josephine and I have noticed that you and Commander Cullen have been - out of sorts, as of late."

Ellana's shoulders slumped, and she sighed, dropping down onto the bench. "He wont even talk to me."

"It is about the mages, is it not? The timing seems uncanny." Leliana asked, and sighed when Ellana nodded. "This is becoming ridiculous. The man is incredibly stubborn."

"He turns a curious shade of purple every time he sees a group of mages practicing their spells," Ellana muttered, running a hand through her hair. "It's like he expects every mage to just suddenly turn into an abomination and go on a mass killing spree."

Leliana winced slightly at Ellana's words, knowing that was exactly how Cullen felt but unable to relay it to her. "Cullen has had - very unfortunate experiences with mages, and very few positive ones. He has been trying to overcome it, but this may be a bit too much, too soon for him."

Ellana frowned, looking up at the spymaster. "I couldn't make Haven another circle for them, though. It seemed - cruel."

Leliana's face was guarded and she did not reply to her comment, but only patted Ellana's shoulder. "Perhaps you could try to speak to him once more. I believe he is calibrating the trebuchets. Again."

Ellana sighed, staring at her hands. "He'll probably just ignore me again. But I will try. Thank you."

Leliana nodded and Ellana stood up, striding out of the tend and making her way down through the paths to the trebuchets, determined to make Cullen at least acknowledge her presence. She found him there as Leliana predicted, and she stopped a few paces from him, crossing her arms and trying not to glare at him.

"Cullen. Enough is enough."

The man in question continued to fiddle with the gears of the trebuchet, refusing to look at her. "Lady Lavellan. Is there something you needed?" His voice was cool, but a tinge of anger hid behind the narrowing of his eyes.

At his words she suddenly felt her resolve weaken, and she bit her lip, looking away from him. "I - no. I just - excuse me. You are obviously busy."

She quickly turned on her heel and hurried back into the main part of town, and he looked up to watch her go, too stubborn to stop her even though he wanted to. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply before returning back to his work, trying to concentrate on the mechanics of the trebuchet rather than of her.

The next morning, Cullen woke up to see Ellana standing next to her hart, a band of mages surrounding her and Cassandra as they prepared for their excursion to the Valley of Sacred Ashes in an attempt to seal the breach. He caught her eye as he passed by, and she stared at him, as if wanting to say something - and then turned back to Cassandra, beginning to speak animatedly with the Seeker. He did not stay to watch them depart, but immediately began to drill the recruits in a frenzy to distract himself from the potential danger that she could be facing.

The next time he saw her, the Breach in the sky had been closed, a dark, eerie scar that lined the heavens. She rode into Haven on her hart, looking exhausted. Her companions followed close behind her, Cassandra nearly riding side-along as she kept an eye on the Herald, making sure that she didn't fall off of her mount. The entirety of Haven cheered for her as she passed through the gates, and she waved a delicate hand, as if an Elvhen lady of old, before she dismounted her hart and had it taken away by eager stable hands. Her companions cut a path for her and she passed by him; she nodded politely but looked away as quickly as possible, focusing on the path ahead.

He nodded back to her, wanting to say more, to congratulate her - but he stopped himself. Their friendship seemed rent by their argument, and he was unsure of how to start putting it back together. If it even could be.

The festivities began in earnest, and he saw her perched and alone on top of the hill, uncharacteristically lonesome as she regarded the horizon. He watched her for a while, curious about what she was watching, before he made a decision and rose to his feet, moving towards her.

And then the bells began to ring.


	17. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow, so much snow.

Ellana had never felt so cold in her life.

Nothing compared to the bone-chilling cold that she experienced trudging through a violent blizzard in only her leathers. She was optimistic in the beginning; she had managed to not be crushed by a mountain and fall to her death, despite the intentions of an angry dragon and an even angrier magister. But now, the trees began to all look the same and her body was beaten and bruised after fighting through Haven and being tossed around like a rag doll. The snow came up to her knees and she struggled to even lift up her feet, but she continued on stubbornly, knowing that if she stopped or laid down to rest she would be but a corpse in the morning, and she had to reach them, had to reach him -

An empty campsite loomed in her vision, and she stumbled to it, falling to her knees. She placed a shaking hand into the dust, whimpering in disappointment when it was as cold as the snow blowing restlessly around her. She unsteadily staggered to her feet and continued her trek, trying not to waver despite feeling weak.

After an endless plain of snow, her breaths ragged as she walked up the side of the mountain, she saw another campsite looming on the horizon. She knelt once more and saw small embers smoldering in the ashes, and she nearly cried in astonishment, but her lips were frozen and her mouth was dry and she only croaked out a sound. She must be getting close.

Her feet felt even heavier, somehow, and she could barely put one foot in front of the other; now she was basically wading through the snow, pushing through with all of the strength that she had left. Eventually, tears of frustration began to roll down her cheeks and freeze her eyelashes as she knew her body was failing her, and she had no idea if she was even near her people. 

Then, suddenly, she saw lights dancing in her vision. She now stood still in a pass, the mountain looming all around her and the wind blowing fiercely through the corridor and leaving her breathless, and she laughed in hysteria.

"Creators, forgive me," she whispered to herself, her frozen lips barely able to form the words. "Let them reach safety, and ferry me to the great beyond." She stumbled in the snow and then fell to the ground, motionless; but then she heard his voice, an echo in the pass, and she smiled despite being unable to feel her limbs and move her fingers.

"There! It's her!"

Eons seemed to pass and then suddenly, strong arms wrapped her in something scratchy and warm and wonderful and lifted her up. She moaned and writhed slightly at the movement, a slight twitch of her limbs as she breathed shallowly.

"Ellana," she heard a voice whisper, terrified. "Maker, stay with me."

"C-C-Cullen," she managed, her teeth chattering and her lips uncooperative. She opened her eyes to see a flash of golden hair, but everything was unfocused and fuzzy, as if the world was filtered through a thick piece of glass. "I-Is t-that y-you?"

What little vision she commanded began to fade, and she was still cold, so cold despite the furs that covered her.

"Yes," she heard faintly as the darkness began to overtake her. She felt as if she was floating on water, a serene lake to the beyond. "Stay with me, Ellana."

"T-The g...gods are..." She swallowed, a dry sticking that hurt more than it helped as she tried to get her tongue to move properly. "G-good, to l-let me h... hear your voice b-b-before I d-die..."

"You're not dying," she heard him say resolutely, and the grip on her tightened; but his voice was so far, so far away.

"I-I'm... glad... w-w-we met," she said lazily, her voice fading along with her tie to the world. "I - "

"Don't speak," she heard him murmur, a pressure on her cheek, but she couldn't feel -

All went black, a last shaky breath as she let go.

\--

The survivors crowded around Cullen as he carried Ellana into the makeshift campsite, trying to see if their Herald truly survived the events of Haven. Cassandra and Leliana quickly made their way to the Commander and immediately began to work to control the crowd.

Cassandra walked in front of both Leliana and Cullen, intimidating everyone to back away by having her hand hover threateningly over the hilt of her sword. "Make room!" Cassandra thundered, and most complied, not daring the anger the Seeker any further. 

"Is she alive?" Leliana asked him softly as she walked by his side, staring at Ellana with no small amount of worry. The Herald was not moving, and the blanket made it impossible to tell if she was still breathing. 

"Barely," Cullen replied distractedly, clutching her to him even more closely as if to protect his precious cargo from the gaze of the crowd. "She was talking before, but now - she's passed out. I don't know whether to be glad for that or not; she seemed to be in pain."

When he reached his tent, he laid her down on the cot, kneeling at her side and staring at her wordlessly. Leliana glanced down at the Commander before placing a hand on his shoulder; when he looked up, she squeezed gently. "We need to get her out of her clothes and then try to warm her; and then I will go get Mother Giselle. She was tending to some of the wounded, but - she may know what we need to do after we get her dry."

Cullen nodded numbly, standing up and exiting the tent to allow Leliana to undress Ellana. When Leliana finally exited the tent, she nodded at him and he went back inside, closing the flap behind him.

Ellana was laying prone on the bed, covered only in a thick blanket. He knelt next to her once again and pushed her hair, limp and wet from the snow, away from her face and searched for pain; but her expression was peaceful as if she were only sleeping rather than knocking on death's door. He removed a glove and placed a hand over her mouth, sighing in relief when he could feel the wisps of breath barely dancing against his skin. Her breathing was slow and shallow, but she was breathing - a prayer of thanks left his lips, muttered silently into the cold air. He gently tucked her in, piling more blankets on top of her before he took one of her hands into his own, rubbing his thumb into her palm to give some of his warmth to her cold fingers and to assure himself that she was actually here. 

"Maker," he whispered, placing a chaste kiss on her clammy hand. "Thank you for bringing her back to me."

He was still holding her hand when Leliana and Mother Giselle made their way back to the tent. Leliana pressed her hand once more onto his shoulder, and he jolted in surprise, looking up at the Sister before gently placing Ellana's hand back under the covers. He stood up and nodded to the two, but still glanced worriedly at the sleeping elf.

Mother Giselle looked at Cullen kindly, handing his gloves back to him. "I will do my best to help her," she replied to the unasked question. "She does not have any obvious wounds, which is good. She is strong to have made it this far."

"Do you know when she will wake?" Leliana asked softly.

"Only the Maker knows, child," Mother Giselle replied. "It could be hours or days. She will take with fever, and if she breaks it - she will recover."

Cullen wordlessly walked out of the tent at her answer, and Leliana and Mother Giselle looked at each other knowingly. Leliana swiftly followed the Commander, closing the flap once again to keep any warmth in.

Mother Giselle looked down at her charge and began to pray.


	18. Intensity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Ellana make up.

Skyhold. The word felt strange on her tongue, as if it meant something greater than what the name belied, a murmuring in her very being that she couldn't even begin to explain. Tarasyl'an Te'las, Solas had called it - "the place where the sky was held back." 

And indeed, the ancient fortress seemed to be holding the sky in its place; when they had finally reached it, she had to stop and stare in awe at the majestic profile that hold set on the horizon. The old stone seemed to shine bright in her eyes, and when she looked back at who she now considered her people, she felt a strange emotion in her chest, as if she could burst from both pride and joy and something else entirely that brought the pinpricks of tears to her eyes.

And now, she was Inquisitor, with a fancy sword and everything. She had almost laughed when Leliana presented it to her, overly large and the pommel clearly not made to fit her small, elven hands. She sent a helpless glance to Leliana, who only gave her a small, almost indiscernible shrug; so she squared her shoulders and took the sword into her own hands, trying not to grunt at the weight.

When the cheers erupted from the crowd below, she stared down at Cullen, who had raised his sword to rally their cry. She froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, before she lifted her own sword into the air with both hands, her face not revealing the turmoil that she felt within.

Now she wandered Skyhold, trying to get her bearings when she heard the Commander barking orders to the soldiers gathered around him. She followed his voice to find him leaning over a makeshift table, staring at scrolls and missives between yelling at his men.

"Send men to scout the area! We need to know what's out there," she heard him say, still staring down at the papers. The soldier he addressed only saluted with a 'Yes, sir!' before running off.

"Commander," another reported, "soldiers have been assigned to temporary quarters."

"Very good," Cullen replied, nodding at him. "I need an update on the armory as well."

When the soldier stood still for more than a moment, Cullen glared at him. "Now!" He barked, his voice raised; the soldier scuttled away, sufficiently scolded.

Cullen saw Ellana approach and immediately launched into updating her on the situation. "We set up as best we could in Haven, but could never prepare for an archdemon or - whatever it was. With some warning, we might have - "

"Do you ever sleep?" Ellana interrupted, raising an eyebrow at him. She had not seen him rest since she had awoken in the mountains almost frozen to death, and the weariness was beginning to show on his face. He glanced at her warily before he continued.

"If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw... and I wouldn't want to. We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor."

"How many were lost in Haven?" Ellana asked, readying herself for the answer.

"None," came his swift reply. "At least, none of the townsfolk."

"None?" Ellana sputtered incredulously. "You mean - "

"You managed to save everyone," he answered as he looked up at her, a small smile on his face though he still leaned on the table. "Many swear that you pulled them from the burning buildings with the fury of Andraste herself."

She flushed, shaking her head in denial. "I only spotted them - Iron Bull did most of the heavy lifting."'

"Either way, morale has improved since you accepted the role of Inquisitor," he continued, staring down at another report.

She sighed at the title, unsure. The inner turmoil that she had experienced came back in full force, twisting her insides. "Inquisitor Lavellan. It sounds odd, don't you think?"

He blinked at her, turning his head to look at her once more. "Not at all."

"Is that the official response?" She quipped, uneasy at his steady gaze, and unable to hold back a smile when she was rewarded with a warm laugh.

"I suppose. But it's true - we needed a leader; you have proven yourself." He pushed himself off the desk and stood up straight, pausing before continuing. "The mages... defended Haven the best they could. I was glad to have fought beside them."

"Thank you, Cullen," she said softly, warmth spreading through her at his words, and she knew their fight forgotten. He nodded at her, an adorable, dopey smile on his face. She paused, pleased at the sight of him smiling at her, and bit her lip before looking down. "Our escape from Haven, it was close. I'm relieved that you - that so many, made it out," Ellana said hesitantly, almost kicking herself when she slipped up and showed her concern for him.

"As am I," he answered, before looking away from her, unable to say more.

She glanced up at him, cringing as the moment grew more awkward. She bit the inside of her cheek to hide her embarrassment at what she considered an overstepping of boundaries, turning away until he spoke up.

"You stayed behind. You could have - "

She turned back to look at him, surprised at the emotion in his voice and how intensely he stared at her. She couldn't know that he was remembering the fear that had gripped his guts as she stayed to face the magister by herself; and then how cold her body was, how small she felt in his arms as he carried her to safety. How close she was to death, how she muttered his name in the depths of her fever only to be calmed by his hand within her own.

She could not know how he remembered, and how for that reason he had forgone sleep since she had stumbled back - and how he was unable to rest until he knew that he did anything in his power to ensure her safety and the safety of all others the Inquisition held in their protection.

"I will now allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word."

Her lips parted in surprise as she was struck mute by his intensity, and all she could do was nod and walk away from him, trying to calm her wildly beating heart. He watched her walk away, his hand on his neck as he feared he showed too much of his depth of feeling for her, before he remembered himself and spun to the single soldier that had remained to watch the conversation. The guard's eyes widened at Cullen's glare, and he gulped before looking away, pretending as if he could not possibly contemplate the reason for the Commander's great concern for the Inquisitor. Cullen sighed before waving him off without another word, leaning back over the surface of the desk to continue his work. 

There was always more to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another scene stolen from the game - I found it particularly sweet.


	19. Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana doubts.

Cullen found Ellana in the main hall of the keep, standing still and staring at the large, almost dilapidated throne in front of her. Moonlight filtered through the stained glass, illuminating the throne and rubble in front of her as she stood covered in darkness. He examined the seat - dust clung to once blood red cloth, the color faded by the ravages of time. Some of the golden embroidery was frayed and torn, the once intricate design rendered indiscernible. Large, rusted swords jutted out of the throne like a burst of light; anyone who sat on the throne would seem to have an aura of blades, imposing and threatening as they wield their power. He tried to imagine Ellana at ease in her seat, her face impassive and her hair flowing around her like an inky veil as she delivered swift and merciless justice upon the wicked; but he only saw a woman standing uncomfortable in the shadow of power. And though she often wore shadow like a familiar cloak upon her form, this one seemed to only drown her under its weight.

He considered whether or not to disturb her thoughts before he decided and walked up to her, the heels of his boots echoing against the ancient stone and alerting her to his presence.

"I shouldn't wield this much power," she said softly, still staring at the throne, her voice low and tenuous. He glanced down at her and stayed silent. "It's almost obscene," she continued. "I am but a hunter, an unmarked da'len, and here I stand with the power to make the world quake at my feet." She finally looked up at him, her eyes suspiciously wet. "So many people depend on me - and so many have already died due to my actions. Every decision I make will end lives, change destinies! Who am I to do so?" She stopped speaking and sighed softly, staring down at the mark that marred the skin of her hand. 

She had worked to ease the turmoil that had settled in her mind at the acquisition of her new title, but now - the sea of eyes that followed her every move, the whispers had now extended to more than just Haven. Now everyone knew who she was, what she stood for, and she knew not how to feel about it. Half of her felt helpless, buoyed by a tide that she had no control over - and the other half felt angry at her fate, a red-hot rage that burned endlessly under her skin. She heard Cullen shift, his armor clinking softly but the sound loud in the empty hall.

"Someone had to lead us - and I am glad that it is you," he finally replied. "You are no tyrant. You are fair and just, even to those who may not deserve it."

She laughed incredulously, not believing his words. "Am I? I feel like but a girl again, playing with dolls in the dirt and toying with forces beyond me."

He placed a hand on her shoulder and marveled as she relaxed into him. "Do not forget that I - that the Inquisition will support you, as you support it. You are not alone in this endeavor."

She smiled at his slip-up and raised her hand to lay on top of his. "Thank you, Cullen. It means a lot to me."

The warmth of her hand as she clutched his fingers caused his heart to thud in his chest, and he smiled though she did not look up to see it. "Perhaps you should sleep, Ellana. You make for Crestwood at dawn, do you not?"

Ellana nodded, her eyes finally moving from the throne up to his face. "Perhaps I should. Leliana and Mother Giselle have been given me troubling reports from the area. We need to help the people there - the last Blight had already taken so much from them."

The determination she felt lit up her eyes, and he could not fathom how she doubted her ability to lead them into a better world. Her inner beauty shone through once more, and he felt a heat flow through him as she stood so close, their hands intertwined as he held onto her shoulder. He could lean down and take her lips with his own, run his fingers through her black, black hair as he pulled her close to him, wanting -

Her fingers loosened and fell away from his own, and he cleared his throat softly before removing his hand from her shoulder and nodding to her. "Good night, Ellana."

A small smile quirked her lips and she nodded to him as well, her eyes revealing that she was also affect by his closeness. "Good night, Cullen."

He watched her as she disappeared into the entrance to her quarters before turning on his feel and returning to his tower, trying to stop the silly, boyish grin that spread across his face. She was the Inquisitor, a woman who would forever be beyond his grasp. With her force of will and determination, she would eventually have the entirety of Thedas under her heel and begging for her favor, and he would have no place at her side except in his current capacity. She deserved better than a man shackled by his demons, a man who could close his eyes and be thrown back ten years into the past.

But by the Maker, when she looked up at him with her cerulean eyes, her plump, full lips begging to be kissed - he wanted. And he was unsure if he could pretend as if he did not much longer.


	20. Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana and Cullen play a game of chess.

Ellana was in the midst of taking an evaluative stroll through the garden when she heard Cullen and Dorian's voices drift through the air. She perked up at the sound, trying to determine where it was coming from when she looked to her left and saw the two sitting under the gazebo, staring at something on the table. She walked up to them quietly, curious, and found them both sitting in front of a board with pieces of different shapes. It took her a second to remember the name of the game from her memories - chess. She looked at Dorian, his characteristic smirk twisting his lips; and then she turned her gaze to Cullen and a small smile broke out on her face when she saw him free of worry.

"Gloat all you like! I have this one," Cullen said confidently, his hand moving to grab one of the pieces.

Dorian raised a brow, amusement written on his face. "Are you - sassing me, Commander? I didn't know you had it in you."

"Why do I even - Inquisitor!" Cullen dropped the piece in his hand, startled by Ellana's approach, before moving to stand up.

"Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?" Dorian teased, his voice colored with humor at Cullen's reaction at being caught. Cullen quickly sat back down, staring Dorian down in annoyance.

"Are you two playing nice?" Ellana asked, crossing her arms and raising a brow despite being amused by their antics.

"I'm always nice," Dorian replied, smirking at Cullen before leaning back into the chair and addressing him. "You must come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better."

"Really?" Cullen asked, placing a piece on the board before also leaning back, a grin on his face. "Because I just won. And I feel fine."

Dorian's face went blank before he leaned forward and examined the board. "Don't get smug," he began haughtily when he recognized his defeat, abruptly standing from his seat. "There'll be no living with you."

Cullen looked up at her, the grin still on his face as Dorian left them. She smiled back at him, affected by his good humor. "I should return to my duties as well," he said to her, before his hand waved over the board. "Unless you would care for a game?"

Ellana looked at the table nervously before nodding in assent. "Prepare the board, Commander."

He began to speak to her as she moved to sit in Dorian's old seat. "As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin on her face whenever she won, which was all the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks." He laughed softly at the memory, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Ah, the look on her face the day I finally won." He became more thoughtful, his voice soft. "Between serving the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years. I wonder if she... still plays."

"You have siblings?" Ellana asked curiously, trying to imagine a younger Cullen. She could only imagine a smaller, serious version of him with a constantly furrowed brow and she had to stifle a giggle.

"Two brothers and a sister," he answered, not noticing her struggle as he considered the board.

"Where are they now?" She managed, clearing her throat.

"They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write to them as often as I should." He blinked as she noticed her looking at him expectantly, a pawn boldly moved forward. "Ah, it's my turn." He quickly moved one of his own pawns forward, sitting back.

"Go easy on me," Ellana requested hesitantly, her eyes flickering over the pieces uncertainly. "I've only ever played this game once before."

Her hands hovered over a pawn before she picked it up and moved it two spaces forward. He looked at her thoughtfully before deciding something, picking up one of his own pawns.

"Do you have any siblings?" He asked, setting the piece down.

"Ah - my mother and father died to the blight long ago, when I was very young," Ellana answered, staring at the board. "I do not have any siblings. I was raised by the clan."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, looking directly at her.

She smiled at him, her face holding no trace of sorrow. "I do not even remember them, though sometimes I wished I could. I wonder what they would say of me now." She picked up a knight, moving it past her pawns.

"No doubt they would be proud," he answered, his hand reaching for a piece. "You have accomplished much."

Ellana flushed slightly. "Unfortunately, none of those involved becoming good at strategy," she muttered, grimacing as he took another one of her pieces. "I'm more - reactive."

He laughed warmly at her grimace. "It has served you well, though," he replied, waiting for her to decide her next move.

"Perhaps," Ellana conceded, furrowing her brow in concentration before bringing one of her castles into play. "Tell me - how is it like, having siblings?"

Cullen laughed. "My siblings are much more - carefree, than I am. They got me into so much trouble..."

"How did they manage that?" Ellana asked, tilting her head. "I'm quite certain you must've been a model child."

Cullen snorted at that. "Hardly."

"Oh?" Ellana leaned in, eyebrows raised. "What kind of trouble did our Commander Cullen get into as a child?"

Cullen smiled at the question, his eyes wistful. "Mia - my oldest sister - would try to keep us in line, but she was never really successful. Once, my brother had the harebrained idea that we should sneak out, go into Honnleath in the middle of the night... and run through it naked."

"You did not," Ellana laughed, her hand covering her mouth.

"Oh, I did," he admitted, laughing. "Unfortunately, we were not expecting the group of Chantry sisters. I don't think I could go back into town for years without blushing to the roots of my hair." He moved a mage diagonally, sweeping away one of her knights. "What about you? Any childhood antics?"

Ellana giggled hysterically for a while before she finally calmed down. "I was very boring," she replied. "I kept to myself, for the most part. Except when I ran away."

"Ran away?" Cullen looked stunned at her revelation. "You ran away from your clan?"

"Oh, multiple times," Ellana laughed, shaking her head. "I was a - willful child, as my Keeper would always say. I always managed to find my way back after realizing that being alone in the woods at night wasn't the best plan."

"Why would you run away?" Cullen asked curiously. "Isn't that - frowned upon?"

"Ah - well, that's a story for another time," Ellana said, evading his question. "If I told you everything about me in one day, I'd lose all my allure!"

He smiled at her. "I don't think it's possible for you to be boring." He flushed slightly when he realized what he said.

She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing would come out. She smiled widely, her eyes crinkling. "That's very kind of you to say, Cullen."

They played quietly for a few more minutes before Cullen looked up at her, a soft smile gracing his features.

"This may be the longest we've gone without discussing the Inquisition, or related matters," Cullen said. "To be honest, I appreciate the distraction."

"We should spend more time together," Ellana said quietly, moving her queen. "Other than you knocking me into the dirt, of course."

"I would - like that," he blinked, taken aback.

"Me too," Ellana replied, a tinge of sheepishness crawling across her face at her boldness.

Cullen looked down at the pieces, a silly grin taking over his face and making him look even more handsome. "You said that," he muttered lowly, and she had to strain to hear him. He looked back up at her, his eyes alight. "We should- finish our game, right? My turn?"

She could only manage to nod, her fingers playing the game but her focus only on Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered, what in the world did they actually talk about? My take on the conversation between the scenes.


	21. Vallaslin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana explains her bare face.

The door to his office burst open with excessive force as he was placing a book back on his shelf, and he looked up to see Ellana standing in the doorway, breathing heavily. When he met her gaze, her lips quirked into a smile. "Good morning, Cullen," she said while she closed the door behind her, leaning on it and giving a deep sigh. "I do not know how Josephine does it, dealing with nobles all day. All of them are... seth'lin," she muttered, before walking up to him.

"Did Josephine drag you into meeting another dignitary?" Cullen asked sympathetically, pulling another book from the shelf.

"He only had to stop himself from calling me a knife-ear three times," Ellana said grimly, flicking her ear in annoyance. "At least Josephine was properly appalled; I have a feeling I will never see that unfortunate soul again, after she's done with him."

Cullen's face darkened at her words, and she laughed, waving a hand at him. "Come, now! Help me take my mind off of this and play a game with me."

At her insistence, they made their way down to the garden, walking slowly side by side as Ellana retold with great detail the unfortunate meeting with the visiting dignitary. Her hands flailed in the air and her voice deepened as she attempted to mimic the offensive man, and Cullen laughed at her abject failure to do so. She glanced up at him and smiled, her heart thudding loudly in her chest as she admired his golden hair and the way that his eyes crinkled and his scar stretched slightly as he laughed. She coughed slightly and looked away, her face flushing.

When they sat down at the table, they began to play immediately, and soon their brows were furrowed over a half-played game of chess. She tried to calm her racing heart at his presence, something electrifying running through her skin every time she managed to sneak a glance at him.

"Can I ask you a question?" His voice cut through the relative silence that had settled around them in the garden, and Ellana looked up from the pieces, slightly startled before nodding at him.

"Of course," she replied, lifting a piece hesitantly and then setting it down and frowning. "I'm sure I've asked enough questions of you recently."

"You are Dalish, but you do not have the - hm." He paused, looking unsure. "Facial... markings?"

Her face froze as did her hands, the castle dangling helplessly from her fingertips. She looked up at him as she straightened in her seat, her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned into a line. Dark memories flittered through her mind unbidden, and she seemed paralyzed and displeased. Cullen noticed her reaction and grimaced, looking apologetic. "Oh, Maker, was I not supposed to ask that?"

He looked so abashed and upset that it brought Ellana back to her senses. "It's alright, Cullen. You simply surprised me," she said, finally placing the castle down on the chess board. "Yes, I do not have them. Well," she considered, and then stood up suddenly, the pieces shaking slightly but not falling out of position. She leaned over and nearly pressed her face to his, and his breath caught in his throat at her proximity as he stared at her dumbly. 

"If you look very closely at my cheeks - right under my eyes, on my cheekbones - you can see something faint," she explained, a delicate finger tapping her cheek.

He managed to gather himself enough to ignore her closeness and look as she directed. He could see it then - a series of soft, stippled markings on her flesh, their color only slightly darker than her own. He nodded wordlessly and she pulled back, moving back to her seat. He could not help but feel disappointed at her absence.

"We Dalish have a ceremony to transition into adulthood. It requires us to receive our vallaslin - blood writing - onto our faces. The ritual is very painful, but it is supposed to bring us closer to our Creators and to our ancestors." She paused, frowning, another memory rendering her silent.

"You don't have to tell me - " he began, unhappy with the direction that their conversation was going.

"No," she interrupted. "You asked, and I will answer. I failed in my ritual - I was unable to stop myself from crying out in pain. You are supposed to suffer in silence, you see, so my Keeper stopped the ritual. It brought me much shame, but it was not unheard of. But then I failed again. And again." She sighed, looking up at him. "There was not much else that could be done. I was the best hunter, and without me there were times that we would have starved; but I was a source of shame to my clan, and no one would let me forget it." She smiled at him, an unusual twisting of her mouth that made her look as if she sucked on something bitter. "I was sent to spy on the conclave to prove that I was ready to try again. But it seems I am to fail at that, as well."

The silence that now settled was more tense, and Cullen struggled to find a way to end it. He considered the board and then made a move. They played quietly for a few more minutes before he managed to speak up again. "I'm sorry to bring it up," he began, unable to look at her.

"Lethallin," she interrupted. "Please, do not worry. I would not have answered if I did not wish to do so."

His head tilted in confusion. "Did you call me something in Elven?"

She blushed, looking away from him. "Ah - yes. Lethallin. It means - " she struggled. "Someone - dear to you. A friend, family."

He stared at her blankly before he smiled at her, a genuine one that lit up his eyes. "Do you mean that?"

"I wouldn't have said it otherwise," she mumbled, flushing even more, her hands now wringing themselves in nervousness beneath the table.

"I feel the same way," he said softly, and she looked up sharply. She stared at him, charmed by his smile, before she smiled back, her teeth flashing.

Footsteps echoed on the cobblestones in the garden and they both looked up. "Inquisitor. Commander," the agent said. "I am sorry to interrupt - we've just received reports and Sister Leliana wishes to speak with you both."

Ellana nodded and stood up, glancing at Cullen. "I suppose we must finish this game later."

He inclined his head in answer, his smile already gone. "Lead the way."


	22. Brawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana watches Cullen fight

Ellana sat in the courtyard under her favorite tree, flipping a page of Varric's The Tale of the Champion, her eyes skimming over the same paragraph over and over. The sun shone down on her through the leaves, and she relaxed, closing her eyes as the rays warmed her skin. Before she could completely doze off, however, the cheering started and she jerked awake, blinking rapidly. She closed her book and set it down against the roots, stumbling to her feet and walking toward the noise. It brought her across the courtyard and into the practice yard, where the ring was surrounded by a large crowd. Her curiosity piqued and she began to weave through it, wondering what was going on.

"I can't believe this is happening," she heard a woman's voice say excitedly. "I think I can die happy now."

"Oh, shut it," she heard another voice reply as she continued to wade through the mass of bodies. "You're such a slattern. This is actually an interesting fight - who do you think will win?"

The women's voices were drowned out by an impossibly loud wolf-whistle that emerged from the other side of the ring and the cheers that suddenly erupted as something happened in the ring. What in the Creators' names was going on? The crowd was getting rowdier by the minute, and after a time she finally managed to push through to the front. She saw two forms clashing, the sound of steel ringing through the air, before they separated.

Iron Bull stood on one end of the ring, balancing his maul deftly in both hands as he grunted, ready to strike. His muscles flexed as he handled the heavy weapon, his body covered in a sheen of sweat and his horns gleaming in the sunlight.

Her eyes slid over to his opponent and her mouth dropped open.

Cullen stood on the other end, clad only in his boots and breeches, his signature pauldrons, armor, and shield in a neat pile a few feet away from him. Her eyes roamed shamelessly over his broad chest and arms that always seemed to be covered by his armor and leather. Dust billowed around him, and his usually perfect golden hair was slightly mussed. Sweat gleamed on his brow- but his face held a self-assured smirk that made him look years younger. "Come on, Qunari!" Cullen taunted, spinning his sword in his hand before settling into an offensive stance, his heels digging into the dirt as his hand motioned Iron Bull towards him. "I can't stand here and wait all day!"

Iron Bull huffed, his grip on his maul tightening and his muscles tensing as he readied to strike. "Fight me like a man, templar! Or are you going to keep hiding in the corner?"

They charged at each other again, but this time Cullen feinted to the left and went low, the edge of his sword quickly pressing against Iron Bull's side. Iron Bull paused, feeling the bite of steel, and grunted in acceptance of his defeat. The crowd cheered wildly, whooping at their Commander's victory. Cullen looked up sheepishly at the sound, clearing his throat before turning his attention to Iron Bull.

"You leave yourself open on your blind side," Cullen commented, pulling back and sheathing his sword. He wiped the sweat off of his brow and breathed deeply, looking up at the huge Qunari. "I don't know what I would do if you had both eyes. Definitely would've kept the armor on, at least."

"You fight pretty well for a templar," Iron Bull conceded, hefting his maul on his shoulder. "I didn't expect that."

Cullen looked smug. "We are some of the best warriors in Thedas. If I can't defeat a one eyed Quna-"

Cullen caught Ellana's gaze and suddenly stopped talking, his eyes wide. "I-Inquisitor!"

Ellana, still unable to recover from the sight of him shirtless, had her mouth slightly ajar. She squeaked out an incomprehensible noise and they continued to stare at each other, both unsure of what to do.

Iron Bull raised a brow at the Commander stopping mid-sentence and followed his line of sight, turning to see Ellana. He grinned at their expressions, the pieces clicking together in his mind. "Hey, Boss!" Iron Bull called out, waving a hand between him and Cullen. "Like the view?"

Ellana blinked, utterly unprepared for being addressed. She glanced around at the people around her, her cheeks reddening at the Iron Bull's comment, before refocusing on Cullen. "I - uh... um..."

She wanted to congratulate him on winning the bout. Compliment him on his swordplay. Anything but comment on how the light sheen of sweat gathering on his chest was driving her distraction, or on how his slightly mussed hair made him look as if he just rolled out of bed and she would love to see that sight again after she had her way with him -

She decided then that instead of embarrassing herself even further, the best move would be to run away - which she did with much fervor. She hastily pushed her way back through the crowd with muttered apologies, and she could hear Iron Bull's guffawing laugh follow her across the courtyard. When she finally made it back to her quarters, she covered her mouth with her hand and giggled like a child. She closed her eyes and imagined him again, his face pulled into a smug grin that accentuated the scar on his face, the way that his body moved with a sword in his hand, strong and practiced and completely different from when he sparred with her. She leaned her head back against the door of her quarters and laughed once again, almost not believing what she had seen. She would be keeping that image of Cullen for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age: Inquisiton wins GOTY! Did anyone watch the nomination clip? Cassandra seems to have a very similar reaction... :D
> 
> I also may have giggled like a school girl. May have.


	23. Nameday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana celebrates her nameday.

"You need a break."

Cullen started at Ellana's voice, looking up to see her leaning on his desk, her elbows propped onto the surface and her chin resting in her hands as she gazed at him with a mischievous smirk on her face. He set the report he was in the middle of reading on his desk with a sigh and leaned back into his chair. "Ellana," he said dryly. "I'm quite busy, if you can't tell."

"It can wait," she insisted, tilting her head. "You need a break. Come on!" She stood up straight, crossing her arms and staring at him. When he realized that she would stand there until he acquiesced, he heaved a sigh and stood up, admitting defeat. She grinned and grabbed his arm, the warmth of her fingers seeping through his sleeve as she pulled him out of his office; eventually she let go, but he continued to follow her dutifully.

When they ended up in front of the tavern, Cullen looked down at Ellana, exasperated. "Why are we here?"

"To drink," Ellana answered blithely as she opened the tavern door, the sound hitting them with full force as they walked through the doorway.

"I make a point not to come here," Cullen said tersely, looking around at his surroundings. The tavern was nearly full and rowdy, soldiers lifting a tankard at them from their tables as the Inquisitor and the Commander passed by. He nodded stiffly at them before glaring at Ellana. "I have an endless amount of work to accomplish."

"It can wait until tomorrow," Ellana replied dismissively as she weaved through the tavern. "This is a special occasion."

Cullen furrowed his brow, thinking on the day. "I can't recall anything - is it some Elvish holiday?"

Ellana snorted, amused at his guess. "No. Why would I drag you out for that? Most of us involve dancing naked in the forest under the light of the moon." At Cullen's wide-eyed look, she snickered, patting his shoulder. "I'm joking. Although, that would be fun, wouldn't it?"

"Maker's breath," Cullen muttered, concentrating on following her rather than thinking of that particular situation.

Ellana sat down on a stood and waved to the Dwarven bartender, who quickly brought her two glasses and a bottle of wine. "I was born today, twenty-four years ago," Ellana began without preamble as Cullen sat down next to her. She poured wine into one of the glasses and handed it to Cullen. "I was hoping you would celebrate with me. Congratulations for not having met an untimely demise, and all that."

Cullen took the glass and waited for her to pour her own before taking a sip. "I had no idea. Do the Dalish - what do you usually do? Do you..?"

Ellana drained her glass before answering. "Ah, you know - ritual sacrifices of children in the name of the Creators, raiding a village or two if we feel especially thankful. The usually Elfy things."

Cullen rolled his eyes, swirling the wine in his glass in annoyance. "If you didn't want to answer..."

Ellana sighed, setting the glass down heavily onto the bar. "Sorry, I just... it wasn't anything to remember fondly. I usually let it pass me by without recognition." She glanced up at him as she poured herself another glass. "But it's different with your people. Humans seem to like... celebrating... it. I thought I would try."

He eyed her glass, slightly alarmed at how quickly the wine was disappearing. "Perhaps you should slow down," he cautioned, and she drained another glass in answer before turning to him.

"Lethallin," she began, her eyes focused on her glass with an unreadable expression on her face. "It is - what do your people call it? A... nameday? It's my nameday. Apparently, I am entitled to be silly and forget about this huge, crushing weight on my shoulders for a little while. Indulge me?"

Cullen evaluated her silently. Although Ellana had confided her doubts in him before, he had never seen her life this, her shoulders tense and her body coiled tight as if ready to strike. Her hand gripped the glass tightly as if to crush it within her grasp, and he made a decision, sighing internally as he lifted his own glass to his lips, the liquid burning his throat as he swallowed. He was definitely going to regret this in the morning, but the grin he received was worth the pain.

\--

Ellana and Cullen walked out of the tavern together, hanging off of each other as they stumbled through the grounds of Skyhold. Cullen's arm looped around her shoulders and she leaned into him, laughing. "Thanks for playing along, Cullen. It was great!" 

He snorted, trying to navigate them towards the main building even though his world was beginning to spin. "At least you gave the recruits something to talk about. Did you really have to dance on a table?"

"Sera dared me!" Ellana protested, affronted by his question. "I cannot be shown up in front of my own Inquisition, Commander. I did drink her under the table, though, didn't I? Oh... Creators, the ground needs to stop moving."

"You did drink her under the table," Cullen conceded. "But only because she was already sitting under it."

They shuffled up the stairs and walked through the main hall until they stood in front of the door to her quarters, the hallway nearly empty as the torches burned in the night. Ellana stared up at Cullen, a smile on her face and her cheeks aglow from her drink. "I like you, lethallin," she said loftily, lifting her hands up to his chest and stepping closer to him. "You're ... you," she finished lamely, unable to think of anything more eloquent with her head spinning.

Cullen laughed at her, taking her hands into his own. "A ringing endorsement."

Her lips parted and she moved closer to him, her expression unguarded. "Cullen, I -"

One of the doors to the main hallway burst open, and they jumped away from each other. A maid scurried by after bowing to them both, carrying clean sheets to another part of the hold. Ellana looked up and cursed violently in Elven under her breath, while Cullen looked away from her, his hand rubbing his neck nervously.

"Uh - right. Inquisitor," Cullen said formally, regaining all of his senses. "I'll just - I must go. Good night."

She watched as he turned on his heel and left, and then leaned her back against the door and groaned when he was out of earshot. Why was it that whenever she gathered enough courage, something interrupted her? Too drunk to consider the situation any further, she staggered through the doorway and, seeing the stairs, gave up and passed out on the cold stone floor.


	24. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen fears that Ellana will fall.

A winter storm had descended on Skyhold, the wind screaming through the mountains and pouring snow onto the keep. The clouds blocked the twinkling stars and only the full moon shone through the swirling clouds. Ellana stood on top of one of the embrasures of the Mage's Tower of Skyhold, her arms thrown open to feel the wind reddening hers kin with its bite. The snow blinded her and she closed her eyes, the snowflakes settling onto her eyelashes. She took a deep breath and gasped, the chill lining her insides, her hair whipping around her and the tendrils rough on her skin. She was suddenly pulled down by strong arms, and she struggled until she felt the warmth of a fur mantle tickling the back of her neck. "Cullen?"

"Maker's breath, Ellana," she heard him whisper hoarsely into her ear. "The entirety of Skyhold thinks you're about to jump to your death."

"What?" Ellana replied, utterly confused by his words. "I was just... feeling the breeze."

"Feeling the-" Cullen sputtered incredulously, and she could feel him sigh as the air rapidly left his chest. "Andraste preserve me. Do you not see this blizzard? You looked as if you were about to teeter off of one of the highest towers in Skyhold!"

Ellana opened her mouth before furrowing her brows, pausing in thought. "You're making it sound like a bad idea."

At her words, he spun her around and stared at her sternly, his fingers still digging into her waist. A corner of her lip quirked upwards and an eyebrow raised in tandem, her face absolutely mischievous despite her blushing cheeks. He took a moment to decipher her look before he noticed where his hands were and, wide-eyed, let go as if she burned him. "I - what would compel you to be up here? It's cold enough without you looking for it," Cullen asked, turning his face away from her as if to scan the area rather than an attempt for him to regain control of his face.

Ellana turned her head to quietly look out at the mountains behind her before she looked back at him, her hands wringing as she tried to put her feelings into words. "It's something simple," she began. "I was never one to - commune with nature just for the sake of it like other elves. Other than our prayers and rituals for the Creators, I mean. I thought it silly, but it's different now. It's - the vision of the future that I had. There were no trees, no flowers - the air was hard to breathe in, thick with the taint of... it clogged up your lungs, as if you were slowly drowning. The song of red lyrium was heard wherever you went, humming incessantly in your ears."

Cullen moved in front of her, his face softening at her somber tone.

"I still hear it in my sleep, still see Leliana being tortured and her body broken." She shuddered and clenched her fists. "And you - you and Josephine weren't even there. As if..." 

She paused as Cullen laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see his eyes sharp and serious. "That future will not come to pass, Ellana," he reassured her, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. "I am sure of it."

Ellana seemed to pull herself together at his words and nodded to him, the tension in her hands disappearing. "Yes. I will - we will - do anything to prevent it from happening. But I will never forget what is at stake." Ellana considered for a moment before looking up at him, a wry smile on her face. "Does this mean you're ordering me not to hang off of towers in Skyhold?"

Cullen sighed. "I will not order you to do anything. But I would appreciate not seeing you up here and jumping out of my skin."

"Alright, Commander," Ellana laughed, her eyes twinkling with mirth, and he felt relieved at her returning to her normal humor. "I'll try not to do so. It would be bad for morale if you suddenly died of fright."

He shook his head at her, smiling at her words. "Also - don't think you're getting out of practice because it's snowing."

Ellana groaned and took one last glance at the scenery before following him back down the tower. The usual quiet murmur that accompanied the mages studying their craft was punctuated by the wind howling outside of the windows. As they descended the steps, she examined the Commander closely in the flickering torchlight. He descended the steps in front of her at an even pace, his hand skirting the railings. She expected him to be far more uncomfortable in the presence of all of the mages, but he seemed calm and collected despite the heads that raised from their books to stare at the Commander and the Inquisitor making their way through their space.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs and exited the tower, the only sign of Cullen's relief was the slight ease of tension in his shoulders, the way that his sword hand moved slightly further away from the pommel of his sword. She placed a hand on his forearm and looked up at him knowingly, and he gave her a small smile, nodding towards the practice ring. She walked ahead of him and picked up the practice sword, shaking it and brushing off the excess snow that had already attempted to bury it. When she looked up, Cullen had already positioned himself across from her, the practice shield held up and ready to defend. They began to practice silently, the crunch of their boots in the snow and the sound of wood cracking against wood filling the courtyard.

"You're getting better," Cullen encouraged, breaking the silence as he raised his shield to block one of Ellana's strikes.

"Am I?" Ellana huffed, trying to feint and hand a hit. "I couldn't tell with my ass constantly in the dirt."

He rolled his eyes at her petulance. "Ellana, trust me when I say that you're doing much better than you think. Swordsmanship is an art that takes years to master - you're doing quite well with only a few months under your belt."

"It's just a blow to my ego," she admitted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I picked up archery like it was breathing. It makes sense to me. This - it's a constant struggle just to keep myself on my feet. I bring a sword with my now, but I've been very fortunate in that I haven't actually had to use it." She stopped attacking him then, sticking her sword into the snow and crouching to catch her breath. She looked so tired, then - her eyes weary from lack of sleep and her nose red from the cold. The storm began to lessen around them, and snowflakes settled gently into her hair.

Cullen lowered his shield and knelt to be eye-level with her. "I'm glad you're working at it anyways. I'm happy to help you with anything that increases your chance of survival."

Ellana laughed slightly, coughing when she couldn't take a deep enough breath. "I do seem to get into a lot of near-death experiences, don't I?"

"That's putting it mildly," Cullen said blandly, unable to fully joke about it. "I'm - just glad you always manage to survive."

"As am I," Ellana replied wryly, rubber her nose as it had begun to run due to the cold. "Oh, wonderful."

"Let's get back inside," Cullen said, offering a hand to held her up. She sniffed, rubbing her nose once more before accepting and staggering to her feet. 

He saw her shivering and took off his mantle and placed it on her gallantly, and tried to ignore the hammering in his chest and the blush that blossomed on her cheeks.


	25. Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana discusses a special person she met.

Cullen found himself in the garden again, sitting across Ellana over a game of chess. The game was half-played, and he already knew that he would win again; but he would never give up the chance to see Ellana's brow adorably furrowed in concentration and her lips pursed as she considered her every move as if it were life or death. She picked up a mage and moved it diagonally into his knight before breaking the silence. "You know, the first time I played this game, I ended up in a fight."

Cullen blinked at her, surprised at her words, before he moved another pawn. "A fight?"

"It wasn't my best moment," she continued. "I told you I met a human for the first time when I was sixteen, right? Well, it might have been because I had run away from my clan."

He leaned back into his chair, his eyes settling on her. "You've got my attention."

"I was young and stupid," Ellana admitted, her eyes still on the board. "Although, I suppose I still am. I can't believe it's been seven years since I met her."

"Her?" Cullen asked curiously.

"She told me her name was Elissa," she began, a humor he didn't understand coloring her voice. "I didn't know then, but now - she was much more than the revealed to me at the time. I ran away from my clan because I was frustrated about - well, I was upset. Except this time, instead of returning home before the next morning, I was so angry I roamed the forests for days. You remember that my clan wanders the Free Marches? I managed to roam so far that I ended up near Starkhaven."

Cullen lazily picked up a piece and moved it across the board. "What were you trying to do?"

Ellana's fingers danced over the pieces. "I wanted to move to the city, into an alienage. I didn't know - I was, I guess I still am? Unknowing as to how your world worked. But I was so convinced that anything must be better than the clan. I had very little in the way of coin, but I had always been a decent hunter - so I caught my meals. Then, I managed to land myself in her camp. I was very way, because all of the stories I'd heard about humans from my Keeper, but she was so kind. She asked me if I was lost - and when I told her I was Dalish, she didn't even look afraid. She told me it didn't matter if I was Dalish or not, I could still be lost," she laughed, smiling at Cullen. "I told her the truth - that I had run from my clan, and that I wanted to move to a city."

Cullen leaned forward, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. "How does chess come into this?"

"Patience!" Ellana laughed, finally making a decision and moving her queen. "Well - she looked at me and told me that many of her people were not like her, and that they would try to hurt me because of what I am. I told her that they could try. So she told me that if I really wanted to, she would help me get to Starkhaven because there were many bandits on the road. So, without even thinking, I followed her and we ended up in an inn on the outskirts of the city."

"The place was basically empty, and one of the tables had a board like this - and I asked Elissa to teach me to play. She did. We played for a little while until one of the men came up to me and tried to - proposition me." Ellana's face turned stormy at the memory, her fingers clenching in anger. "I declined, of course, and he took offense. He called me- well, he called me many things, so I stood up and shoved an arrow in his face. It... escalated a bit after that. Elissa managed to get between me and the men and told them to shove it, and when they didn't, beat them bloody with just her shield."

"She dragged me out and gave me an earful about starting fights, but then she grinned and told me that the 'sorry sods deserved it.' I was so shaken. She looked at me and asked me if I still wanted to leave home, and I still did - and I asked if I could go with her to become a Grey Warden. She looked surprised, but she had so many griffons on her armor - it was hard to miss. She told me that she liked the way I handled a bow, but I was still too young to consider giving my life away and that my clan would consider it a kidnapping. I was upset, but she told me that she would return to the Free Marches in a few years, and she would find me if I told her the name of my clan. So I did." She frowned slightly, finally moving a pawn. "She never returned, though."

Cullen stared at her blankly. "A Grey Warden named Elissa? You can't mean- "

Ellana grinned at him, his conclusion making her giddy. "The Queen and Hero of Ferelden taught me to play chess, and I didn't even know it!" 

"She's touched many lives," he said slowly, trying to forget the last time he saw the hero, her eyes pitying as she looked at him suffering in his magical cage in Kinloch Hold. Ellana eyed him, noticing his change in demeanor, but thankfully did not comment.

"She is a great woman," Ellana said softly. "I'm glad that - if I met another human first, would I be so open minded? I do not know. It is strange to think that I could maybe hold such hate, like the many of my people do, and maybe I would not have allowed myself to be friends with you."

Cullen stared at her and was mesmerized by the hesitant smile on her face, the words that she could not manage to say. "I am... glad, then, that you met her."

Ellana looked away, biting her lip to hold back a smile, before she turned back to Cullen. "It's, ah - your turn."

"Right," Cullen answered, looking back down at the board, his mind suddenly unable to focus on the game.


	26. Goats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goats, goats, goats.

Cullen had not appeared at any of the meal times today, and Ellana grew increasingly concerned as the day grew to a close and no one had seen their commander. Ellana curled into herself best as she could to ward off the chill as the wind blew across the walkway to Cullen's office, protecting the plate of food in her hands. When she reached his doorway, she gently pushed the door open, peeking inside to see if anyone else was there. The inside of the office was dark, and so she knocked lightly on the door. "Commander?"

"It's just me," came the weary reply, and she opened the door fully and stepped in. 

"Long day?" She sympathized, closing the door behind her before walking up to his desk, setting the plate of food on the desk. Cullen sat behind it, dark circles under his eyes and the lines of his face deeper than usual. "I brought you something to eat; you missed meals today."

He looked up at her from the piles of reports and orders that begun to accumulate and sighed. "Did I? Thank you. If I receive another report today, I don't know what I will do."

"Cullen!" Ellana exclaimed in mock surprise, leaning on his desk with her elbows. "I thought you enjoyed the endless work."

He looked at her warily, not amused at her mockery. "I do have limits."

Ellana's eyes softened at his tone, and she examined him further. His hands held a minute tremor when he picked up another report, and her eyebrows furrowed at the sight. "You look a bit - terrible. Is everything alright?"

He looked everywhere but at her. "I..." He looked down, setting the paper down on the desk, and she suddenly noticed the box hidden behind it. "As leader of the Inquisition, you - there's something I must tell you."

She immediately lost all humor, her face blank as the mask of Inquisitor crawled upon her face. "Whatever it is, I am willing to listen."

He blinked at her sudden change in demeanor before standing up. "Right. Thank you." He leaned on the desk, staring at the contents of the box. "Lyrium grants the templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer - some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the templars here. But I... no longer take it."

"You stopped?" Only the slight hitching of her voice would have keyed anyone to her inner distress. The words 'suffer, mad, die' rang through her head and she struggled to keep her concern from getting personal. 

Cullen gave her a level look, unable to decipher her tone. "When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now."

"Cullen, if this can kill you- " Her mask now broke, lips thinning into a line as her fingers trembled. Her eyes were wide and full of concern, and he felt his stomach twist at the thought of causing her pain in this way.

"It hasn't yet," he said firmly, trying to give her a reassuring look. "After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't. I will not be bound to the Order, or to that life, any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But I will not put the Inquisition at risk. I have asked Cassandra to - watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty."

Ellana took a deep, shaky breath, before nodding to him. "Are you in pain?"

"I can endure it," he answered resolutely, his arms crossed and brokering no argument. They stared at each other for a few moments before Ellana cleared her throat lightly.

"Thank you for telling me. I respect what you're doing," Ellana managed, before laughing nervously and turning away. "Ah, is this the feeling you get when I'm thrown in danger? It's quite unpleasant." 

He laughed softly, a smile on his face. "You can't imagine. I can't help but worry for your safety." When he realized what he said, he gulped. "I mean - I - um, well, I meant..." He floundered for a few moments before he managed to look up and catch Ellana's wide-eyed gaze. Feeling vulnerable and his heart hammering in his chest, he walked around his desk and up to her, his hand raising to touch her cheek. "Ellana- "

"I -" Ellana began, before a loud bleat and a crash echoed through the air. They both froze, Cullen's hand in mid-air, before looking at each other and bolting out of the room. Ellana grabbed a bow, dusty from sitting in the corner of his office, and Cullen drew his sword, wary. Ellana set her back against the embrasure before leaning over the battlements to search the ground below, and blinked once. Twice. Cullen saw her pause and looked over with her.

"Is that- " Cullen began, looking incredulous.

"A man throwing goats at Skyhold? Yes," Ellana answered, her face blank. "Yes, I think it is. Should - should we... do something? About that?"

A pause. "Yes. I... uh - goat throwing. Maker."

Cullen turned and swiftly walked away, and Ellana rested her head on the cold stone of the battlements, groaning. Was he about to-?

"Damn goats," she muttered, lightly hitting her head against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If only she had a quiver to go with her bow...


	27. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana rants to Dorian, and it has an unexpected result.

"When can we stop this dance, and stop being awkward around each other?" Ellana asked, biting into an apple. "I'm beginning to wonder if I am doomed to feel a blushing maid around him."

The library was quiet beside Ellana's quiet murmuring and the whispers of pages turning. The sun shone through Dorian's window, bathing both her and the mage in sunlight. Ellana sat backwards in a chair next to Dorian, her arms wrapped loosely around the top rail, her face scrunched up in a look of annoyance and despair as she examined the half-eaten apple. Dorian sat in his comfy chair, attempting to peruse a book; however, at her words, he sighed deeply and closed the book with no small amount of force before gently placing it on the table next to him.

Dorian glared at her. He only had so much time to read between their adventures, and as much as he was fond of the Inquisitor, a man had his limits! "What, in Andraste's name, are you going on about now?"

She glared back at him, nonplussed at his reaction. "I've been explaining it over the last ten minutes. You made all the appropriate noises, too."

"And what, pray tell, was the topic?" She threw the apple at him, which he caught and set next to his book distastefully. "You Dalish. Throwing food? Ugh, you've been eating this too. I knew you were barbaric, but this is a whole new low."

Ellana pursed her lips and him and sighed before looking around and whispering. "Cullen."

"Ah! Yes, your templar!" Dorian leaned back into the chair, his arms crossed and his brow raised as he suddenly became more interested in her dilemma.

"Dorian!" She hissed, looking around again. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, but she was wary of the way sound carried in the small space.

"Now, now, Ellana," he placated. "It doesn't matter how loud I say it, because anyone with eyes could see you two practically mooning over each other. It's almost disgusting, actually, how sweet it is."

She groaned, placing her face in her hands. "Why do I even bother talking to you? Better yet, why did I even bother letting you stay?"

Dorian laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Because you know you can't live without my wit; and I'm so terribly handsome."

She threw another apple at him in response.

"Where are you even getting these?" Dorian mused, catching it mid-air and taking a bite.

Ellana ignored his question, only leaning forward on the chair until the legs behind her lifted into the air. She frowned before sighing in frustration, her arms flailing in the air. "What do I do? I just want to - get on with it! It keeps almost happening, and - Creators, if he doesn't kiss me soon I think I will tear all of my hair out!"

Dorian's eyes had become increasingly wider as she ranted, opening his mouth before clamping it shut with an audible click, a curious expression on his face. He looked at something behind Ellana and his lips quivered as if trying not to laugh.

"What?" Ellana said harshly, annoyed at him not paying attention to her once again, before she heard movement behind her. The sound of hard leather boots tapping against the floor, the whisper of gauntlets moving against cloth. She blanched, and turning her head, hoping -

Cullen stood behind them, looking almost as embarrassed as Ellana felt.

"Ah - Inquisitor," he began, at a loss for words. "I'm sorry to interrupt -"

"Uh- " Ellana said dumbly, mouth open.

Dorian snickered. "Do close your mouth, or the flies might get in."

Ellana snapped her mouth shut and scrambled out of her chair, the sound of wood clattering on the stone floor echoing loudly in the library. She flushed even more, her face almost tomato-red. "C-Commander." She finally managed, reaching down and righting the chair.

"Inquisitor," he answered, his cheeks flushed a light pink as his eyes flickered between her and Dorian. "I thought - you might be free for a game of chess?"

"A game?" Ellana repeated dumbly, one of her hands coming up to move a strand of hair behind an ear in nervousness. "Oh. Actually - now that you've - could I - speak to you? Alone?"

"Alone?" Cullen sputtered, looking once again at Dorian before focusing on her. "I mean... of course."

Neither moved, only standing and continuing to stare awkwardly at the other until Dorian sighed loudly. "Oh, by the - get out! Both of you! I have a book to read, and watching you two is trying my patience."

Ellana jumped and then turned to glare at Dorian, looking apologetically at Cullen and quickly walking out. Cullen followed behind her closely, looking lost and incredibly nervous. Dorian watched them go before picking up his book and snickering behind it. "And the dwarf now owes me three silver. Oh Dorian, how do you manage to be so keen?"


	28. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana and Cullen share a moment.

The sun shone on Ellana's back and warmed her as she and Cullen walked slowly on the battlements, but she still managed to feel clammy and cold, her insides clenching in nervousness and her heard thudding in her chest. She glanced up at Cullen but quickly looked away when she caught his gaze.

"It's a nice day," Cullen remarked nervously, looking away from her and into the courtyard, trying to find something to focus on.

"What?" Ellana started, lost in her own train of thought. Now that she had managed to get him alone, she had no idea how to begin this conversation with him.

"It's -" He paused, finally looking at her. "There was something you wished to discuss."

Ellana bit her lip, her eyes meeting his. She opened her mouth and all of the words came out in a fumbling rush, leaving her breathless at the end. "I find myself thinking of you, more than - well... all the time, really. It's - kind of embarrassing."

Cullen looked at her in surprise before glancing down at his feet, trying to hide a smile. "I can't say I haven't wondered what it would be like," he took a few steps and Ellana followed, her heart fluttering in her chest at his words.

"What's stopping you?" She said softly, moving in front of him. "I don't think we've been particularly subtle."

He looked down at her, his eyes full of some emotion she couldn't understand. "You're the Inquisitor. We're at war, and you - I didn't think it was possible."

She leaned back against the walls and smiled slightly, caught in his gaze. "Yet I'm still here."

"So you are. Seems too much to ask, but I want to -" His voice trailed off and he leaned forward, his large hands pressing into her hips, the warmth of his hands seeping through his gloves. He neared and she closed her eyes, feeling his breath ghosting on her lips and the cold of the stone wall seeping into her clothes.

"Commander!" A scout called from the door to Cullen's office as he closed it behind him, his voice cutting through the air.

Cullen's eyes shot open and he pulled back from her so quickly it made her head spin. She nearly groaned, his hands removing themselves from her hips leaving her feeling cold and frustrated. 'This is getting ridiculous,' she thought, looking up in askance before looking back down and letting out a sigh. Cullen stared straight ahead, as if in a daze and questioning his life choices.

"You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report," the scout continued, thankfully still looking down at the missive and oblivious to the moment that he had ruined.

Cullen turned to him and almost snarled. "What?"

The scout glanced at Cullen, confused by his reaction. "Sister Leliana's report? You said you wanted it delivered, 'without delay.'"

Cullen loomed over him, glaring wordlessly. The scout looked between him and Ellana, who was still leaning against the battlements feeling flustered and hoping that it was not showing on her face.

"Or... to your office. Right." The scout backed away slowly before nearly running back and slamming the door behind him in his haste.

Ellana sighed, looking away from Cullen with no small amount of disappointment. The moment was definitely gone. Again.

"If you need to- " she began, trying to pretend as if nothing had happened. She was interrupted by Cullen's hands grabbing her face and his lips descending on her own as he kissed her fiercely. His lips felt warm and pliant upon her own and she froze for a moment in shock before she smiled against his lips and began kissing him back, pulling him closer to her. They finally broke apart, their breath steaming in the cold winter air as they regarded each other.

"I'm sorry - that was, um," he began, looking away before gazing back at her with a small smile. "Really nice."

"You- don't regret it, do you?" She asked, her eyes wide and pleading at his apologies and hesitation.

He looked at her, surprised. "No!" He exclaimed immediately, before blinking at her, trying to figure out why she asked. "Ah... no," he finally said softly. "Not at all."

She relaxed, the smile returning to her face, and she found him kissing her again, trying to reassure her that he really was quite eager to kiss her. He sweetly explored her mouth, and she found herself kissing him back, her heart lifting as she wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself on her toes to better reach him.

"I must ask - did I save your hair?" He murmured against her lips when they separated once more for air. "I would hate to see it go."

"I don't know," she replied softly. "It's quite the damsel in distress. I think it needs more saving."

He chuckled lowly at her words, the sound making her shiver. "As you command," he conceded, catching her mouth with his own once more.


	29. Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera surprises Ellana.

Steam rose from the nearly scalding water sitting in the wooden tub in the middle of Ellana's quarters. She sank into it with a sigh of content, leaning her head back and allowing the water to heat her blood. Her eyes fluttered closed and she remembered Cullen's lips upon her own as he kissed her on the battlements, and a giggle left her throat as she splashed a hand into the water in girlish delight. She had no idea what to do next, but the memory of being completely flush against him, his fingers digging into her hips, wrapping under her ears, raking through her hair made her both shiver and burn. She tried to recreate the feeling with her own hands, pressing her fingers into her hips, and letting her hands travel lower - 

Then Sera swung over the banister, landing in front of the bathing Ellana.

"Sera!" Ellana shrieked, covering herself with her hands. Her skin was now flushed with more than the heat of the water, and she was suddenly glad that she still had all of her hair.

"Oh, come off it," Sera snorted, waving a hand. "You're not my type. Too short and... elfy."

Ellana glared at her, refusing to remove her hands from places. "I don't make a habit of being naked in front of anyone."

Sera laughed boisterously at her words as if she knew a secret. "Except certain templars, I'm sure. So," she grinned conspiratorially, moving to lounge back on her couch, propping her feet on the arms. "Tell me about Cullen-wullen."

Ellana sputtered at the undignified pet name. "Cullen - what?"

"Cully-wully," Sera said, sounding as if it was obvious. "Y'know. Serious bloke, stick up his arse. Bangin' ya." Sera made kissy faces at her while forming an obscene gesture with her hands that Ellana had never seen before but got the gist of pretty quickly.

"Sera!" Ellana flushed, completely unable to handle this form of teasing; especially while naked. "Where did - what - how... we have not!"

"Heard from a maid who heard from a soldier who - oh, whatever," Sera shrugged, finding the number of players in her game of word of mouth too long to explain. "Point is, everyone thinks you two are doin' the beast with two backs. So, tell me!"

Ellana groaned, sinking even further into the water in her embarrassment. "Why do you even care?"

Sera pulled out a plum, rubbing it against her shirt before taking a juicy bite. Ellana glared at the girl, knowing she had pilfered the fruit from her own stores but unable to bring herself to scold her for it. "I like you enough," Sera admitted when she swallowed. "You're an elf but not too elfy - I mean, you're crushin' on the Commander so you can't be. Never seen him even attempt a smile. Plus, it's boring around here with all the waiting." 

Ellana eyed the fruit before she sighed, acquiescing. "Can I at least get dressed first?"

"Sure!" Sera replied cheerily, her eyes not leaving Ellana's form in the bath.

"Without you watching," Ellana ground out, glaring at the mischievous girl sprawled on her couch.

"Ah fine," Sera sighed, turning around and covering her eyes with her hands. "No fun, you."

Sera heard Ellana step out of the bath by the sound of water sloshing against the walls of the tub. One foot daintily stepped onto the floor with a soft sound, and then the other as she pulled herself out of the tub. The sound of water dripping onto the stone floor soon accompanied, along with the sounds of a towel, rough against skin. Sera tried to imagine Ellana wiping herself sensually, comical in its exaggeration, and snort-giggled at the thought.

The rustling stopped suddenly, and there was a hesitant pause before Ellana spoke up. "What?"

"Nothing!" Sera replied, smirking to herself.

Ellana let out a frustrated sigh, and Sera could hear more rustling of cloth. Ellana then cleared her throat. "Okay, you can turn around."

Sera spun around, eyes widening slightly when she laid eyes on the Inquisitor. He black hair was wet and shining, flowing past her shoulders like liquid obsidian and dripping water onto her clothes, leaving trails of dampness. Her cerulean eyes flashed in annoyance at Sera as she crossed her arms, her full lips tightening in anger. She was dressed in barely more than what was necessary to make her decent, only a loose tunic tracing over her unbanded breasts and doing nothing to hide her lithe form. Her legs were long despite her height, and as she reached down to wipe the water dripping down her legs, Sera got a peek at the tops of her breasts.

"Shite," Sera muttered to herself, already forgetting her preference for tall, non-elfy women. "Cullen's a lucky prat."

"Excuse me?" Ellana asked, straightening and placing the towel over her shoulders.

"So, Cully-wully," Sera continued, ignoring her words and trying even harder to ignore her body. "Tell me!"

"Tell you what," Ellana said uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of her shirt as she shifted between her feet in nervousness.

"Y'know! Serious man like that, likes all the control he can get. You're different though - elfy, wild, adventurous, dragons and Corififace following you. Not easy to control."

"I'm sure if I don't object to being described like that," Ellana grumbled. "And I still don't understand why you need to know. He's - he's not like any man I've met before."

Sera snorted, rolling her eyes at the Inquisitor. "'Course not. All you knew were those stuffy elves in the forest, all 'blah blah blah, glory to the elves, lets stick our heads in the dirt and believe in rubbish.'"

Ellana glared at her, opening her mouth to protest before realizing that it was most likely a losing battle and sighing. "He's kind, charming and - by the Creators, Sera, what were you expecting me to say?"

Sera had begun making unpleasant faces at her, simulating vomiting, and Ellana felt her patience wearing thin. "I wanted all the steamy bits so I could tell Varric for his notes," Sera admitted, taking another bite of the plum and smirking at the now-steaming elf. "There's some coin in it for the good stuff, and you get embarrassed at the same time. It's a two'fer! Also, for the betting pool. Can't forget that!"

"Ugh!" Ellana screamed in frustration, her patience dissolving into rage and she threw her towel at her friend. "Get out, Sera!"

"Fine, fine," Sera giggled and dodged the towel, launching herself off the couch and skipping down the stairs and out of sight. Her voice floated up the hallway as she left. "Cully and 'Llany sittin' in a tree- "

Ellana groaned, throwing herself onto her bed and covering her ears as she melted into the covers. "Of course there was a betting pool. How could there not be?"

\--

Despite the main hall being noisy and crowded, Varric sat at a table, his flowing script outlining the latest chapter of his serial, Hard in Hightown. He found the constant murmur of the crowd to be helpful for his thoughts; but unfortunately, it left him distracted to the goings-on around him. His hand stilled in the middle of a word when he felt a dark presence looming over him, and he looked up to see Ellana, arms crossed and face stormy as she glared at him.

"Uh - hello there, Inquisitor," Varric began, looking at her warily.

"A betting pool, Varric?" She said darkly, her fingers dancing over the hilt of her sword. "Explain."

Varric cleared his throat, lifting a finger to explain, before he noticed her fingers clench the pommel. "Ah. Well... shit."


	30. Scratch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana catches Cullen napping.

Ellana stood in the practice ring, staring up at the stars as she waited for Cullen to show. She passed the time by moving through some of the drills that he had taught her, her feet now moving through them more smoothly after the months of continuous training. But when he didn't appear after waiting for nearly half an hour, Ellana scowled and stomped her way up the battlements to Cullen's office, ready to scold him. 

When she opened the door and peeked into his office, she found him sleeping at his desk, his body half sprawled on the desk. His head laid on one of his forearms while his other hand still held a report, probably half read before he dozed off. She smiled at the sight, deciding on whether to wake him before she walked up to him, running her fingers through his hair. He sighed contentedly before turning his head and lazily opening an eye to look at her.

"Ellana," Cullen said sleepily, a soft smile creeping upon his face as he recognized her through his grogginess. He sat up, blinking rapidly so that the torchlight wouldn't be so shocking to his eyes. "What - how long did I sleep?"

"It's time for us to spar," Ellana said softly, continuing to scrape her fingernails lightly against his scalp. He leaned into her, closing his eyes in bliss. "I don't know when you fell asleep. I didn't want to wake you, but - you would've been sore in the morning, if you kept sleeping like that."

"Mm, I see," he murmured, too distracted by her hands to comment properly. "That feels... nice. You should keep doing it."

Ellana snickered before adding her other hand to the massage, grinning as he almost purred under her fingers. "I see there is a reason for the lion helm, my fierce Commander."

"Hmm," he mumbled, unable to retort as he leaned back against her hands like a great, indolent cat.

She snorted at his reaction but didn't stop her ministrations. "Did you have a long day? I've never seen you fall asleep at your desk before."

"I didn't - sleep well the night before," he answered, a whine bubbling up his throat when her fingers stilled. She shook her head and started again.

"Nightmares?" She said softly, and sighed imperceptibly when he nodded slightly. "Maybe you should turn in early?"

A smile came to his face at her concern, and he grabbed one of her hands, pressing a kiss to it before he pulled her into his lap. She gasped in surprise as she landed on his legs, looking up at him with a half-smile tugging her lips. "Is this where you prove you're alright by having your way with me?" She breathed, her eyelashes fluttering at him coquettishly. 

He didn't respond but to kiss her softly, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her closer to him. She felt the chill of his armor seeping through her clothes, but his hands were so warm against her back as his gloves hands pressed against her clothes. She sighed into his mouth and he pulled away, a shy smile on his face.

"Perhaps we should do what you came here for," he suggested, pressing another kiss to her cheek as he held both of her hands within his own. At her look, he rolled his eyes. "I meant practice, Ellana."

"You want to spar? After that?" She muttered, her voice tinged with frustration; but then a thought crossed her mind and she raised a brow at him, a grin spreading across her face. Cullen gulped, knowing that look meant nothing good for him, and was confirmed when she opened her mouth. "You just want to knock me on my back, don't you? You sly rogue!"

He was never prepared for when she said these kinds of things. He looked at her, unable to form words as his cheeks flushed and his eyes widened. "Ellana! I - "

She laughed brightly and sprung out of his lap, dancing across the floor. She twirled to him, her hair flying around her, and blew him a kiss. "Come and catch me then, ser!"

She sprinted out of the door, her laughter growing distant as she ran across the way. He stared at the empty doorway for a moment before quickly rising and grabbing his shield and shield as he chased her out of the door.

Never let it be said that he did not respond to a challenge.


	31. Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen contemplates Ellana.

In the months since becoming Inquisitor, Ellana had begun to ooze confidence and leadership in nearly all of her dealings. From making difficult decisions to dealing with the diplomats that flowed in and out of Skyhold, she ran the Inquisition with an incredible finesse and care that he had rarely seen in leaders in his lifetime. It wasn't, however, her ability to lead that made him question his blossoming relationship with her, but the undeniable moments of her youth.

Cullen was now far from the young man he had once been before the Blight, innocent and narrow in his view of the world. He remembered the days where everything seemed to only be filtered in black and white, simplistic and easy to draw the line between good and evil. Now - now, things were much more complicated; the rifts filled the skies with their swirling, inky green voids, and he found himself allying with forces that he would never had considered before. The world was swathed in shades of grey, and Ellana was the largest swirling mass of confusion amongst all of them in his thoughts.

Twenty-four. She was twenty-four years old; she told him that day in the tavern as her face grimaced and she struggled under the weight of the responsibilities that had begun to pile upon her, her fingers curled around her wine as if it were her salvation. He had never thought of her age before that, his thoughts focused on other things as she led them through the darkness of Haven with only her bow and the mark on her hand. But when the number was told to him, he began to realize how young she was; he tried to imagine himself in her position when he was her age, nearly a decade ago, and he knew that he would not have been able to shoulder the burden that she now carried.

Was his softer feelings for her true, or was it only a warped desire to protect, to keep something so beautiful and clean from being soiled by the evils of the world? He could not separate his feelings from his thoughts on her, and it scared him, the way that she so easily unraveled the control that he held such a tight grip on, the control that he thrived on to survive. Did he truly care, or was she only a symbol, a chance to rectify his past mistakes? He had no way to answer and it burned inside of him, a doubt that led him turning in his sleep between his nightmares.

Sometimes he forgot her age - or perhaps, she made him forget his with her smiles and soft touches that sent his blood aflame as if he were but a boy again. But then there were moments like these, that it hit him with full force and he felt the doubt coil in his thoughts like a serpent ready to strike.

Cullen walked down the steps of the battlements to see Ellana sitting on the ground cross-legged, her fingers nimbly weaving a crown of wildflowers as a young girl sat on her knees in front of her, clapping her hands in delight. Ellana murmured something to the girl before handing it to her, who quickly stood up and placed it on Ellana's head. The purple and blue flowers rested on top of her head as her black hair flowed about her in waves, and he stopped and stared, amazed at her beauty. Ellana giggled, a hand brought up to cover her mouth, and she pinched the girl's cheeks. The girl squealed in protest, only making Ellana laugh harder. She looked so young, like a child playing in the dirt, and he felt wrong, so wrong for wanting her even then, to take her mouth with his and claim her as his own.

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice in the distance, and he looked up to see an older woman rushing towards them, her skirts lifted as she ran. "Grace! There you are! Grace, you cannot bother the Inquisitor!" The woman grabbed the girl roughly by the shoulder, pulling her to her side and curtsying deeply to Ellana. "I'm so sorry, your Worship. She didn't mean - "

Ellana stood up smoothly, her face kind as she gently brushed the dust off of her clothes. "Please, be calm, my lady. Grace was not bothering me."

The woman stilled in shock, her eyes wide at being addressed so formally by one so high. "Your Worship - "

Ellana glanced over the woman's shoulder and saw Cullen, her smile widening at the sight. She bowed slightly to the woman in front of her before speaking. "Excuse me, my lady. I believe Commander Cullen wishes to speak with me."

She passed by the stuttering woman to glide towards him. "Hello, Commander," she breathed, looking at him through her lashes as she stopped in front of him.

"Inquisitor," he answered formally, straightening his posture as he addressed her. "We are needed in the war room."

She looked like a princess of the forest as she stood in front of him, with her crown of wildflowers and her hair falling past her shoulders, framing her face and ending in a soft curl. Her blue eyes flashed at him, their usual seriousness replaced by a mischief that he had discovered was reserved for him. He always had to remind himself that she was a grown woman; it was not hard when his eyes swept across the curve of her hips and the small of her waist, but from a glance she was all the waif of a girl that her petite form belied. It was in these moments of doubt that he questioned his worthiness of her, with the whispers of demons still haunting his sleep and the addiction that chased him as his heels, and he wondered if he was the best for her. What would a man like him, weighed down by a past that he could not change and indecision on the nature of his feelings, truly offer her?

He started from his melancholy thoughts when he felt both of her arms wrap around his own, and he looked down at her smiling face, stiffening at the way she touched him in public. "Lead the way, Commander," she said melodiously, her smile gentle but her eyes telling him that she knew she was making him uncomfortably, being so close in public, and that she was relishing in his embarrassment. He realized then that he didn't really care if he was best for her, because she wanted him despite his demons, wanted him - and nothing else. And if she wanted him, who was he to refuse her?

"Of course, your Worship," he replied as courteously as he could manage, and arm in arm they began their slow walk toward the main hall.

The woman stared at the pair as they left, gaping at how noble they looked together. She looked down at her daughter and sighed in exasperation. "You're lucky our Inquisitor is how she is, girl. Lesser women would not have indulged you."

Grace merely grinned up at her mother. "Ellana is my favorite!"

"Grace!" Her mother scolded, horrified at her daughter's informality.


	32. Orlais

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition goes to Orlais.

Val Royeaux shone in the light of the setting sun as the Inquisition rode near the city's limits, the Sun Gates glittering in the distance. Ellana's entire body ached from the long ride along the Imperial Highway. They had left days before, winding through the mountain paths before reaching and traveling alongside the main road. They had managed to avoid trouble most of the way, the obviously armed group dissuading only but the most idiotic of bandits, and she was grateful for it. She glanced behind her and saw her forces; her advisors alongside Vivienne, Cassandra, and Dorian, as well as the platoon of soldiers that accompanied them in case their efforts at the Winter Palace went horribly wrong.

As they came upon a large inn, Leliana nodded to Ellana, and she lifted a hand, motioning for everyone to stop. Ellana turned her head slightly as Cullen and Josephine broke formation to ride up to her. She nudged her hart and turned slightly, greeting her advisors by removing her hood.

"We should stop here. We've arrived a day before the ball, as planned," Leliana began, glancing around at their surroundings before focusing on Ellana. "It gives us ample time to allow my scouts to comb Val Royeaux one more time before our entrance into the city."

Cullen nodded, picking up the debrief when Leliana stopped speaking. "It also allows our soldiers - and us, quite frankly - to rest from the journey. I suggest we try not to bring too much attention to ourselves. We're not in the city, but word can travel quickly if we're not careful."

"We will ride into the city and arrive at the Imperial Palace an hour after the nobles begin to gather," Josephine explained, waving a hand. "If we arrive too early, we will be seen as overeager; if we arrive too late, as unprincipled."

Ellana rolled her eyes before smiling gently at her ambassador. "I know, Josephine. You've tried to drill every Orlesian custom in my head the entire ride here. Let's settle in and stop sitting on the road. I'll deal with the stables - you haggle over the rooms!"

She gently nudged her hart into a trot away from the three before Josephine could reply, and heading towards the stables. She dismounted and walked her hart to the stables boys, passing a coin purse and instructing them to take care of all of the mounts. The head stable boy grinned and accepted her coin before ordering the younger ones about, and they quickly began to take the mounts from the incoming Inquisition forces. Ellana watched the exchange, carefully rolling her shoulders in an attempt to stretch without drawing too much attention to herself, and suddenly found Cullen standing next to her, his hand pressing lightly against her lower back. "Josephine is fretting," he murmured lowly into her ear, and she shivered at his closeness.

"I've noticed," she whispered back, leaning into the hand on her back. "I don't blame her. An elf arriving in a position of power at Halamshiral? The nobles will not be pleased."

Cullen made a dismissive sound in his throat. "I have faith in your ability to charm those vipers."

She felt her cheeks heat at his compliments, and she cleared her throat slightly, trying to change the subject. "Come on," she grabbed the hand that was on her back, squeezing his fingers lightly before nodding to the inn. "I need a meal after that ride."

Cullen and Ellana entered the inn to see it already filling with the familiar faces of her Inquisition forces, and she nodded and greeted all that she could. She saw Vivienne standing in the corner with a look of distaste, and muttered something to Cullen. He nodded and walked to Josephine, and they began a discussion almost immediately.

"Vivienne," Ellana greeted the First Enchanter. "Are the accommodations not to your liking?"

Vivienne finished scanning the room, pursing her lips slightly before turning her gaze to Ellana. "It is a bit... rustic, my dear. But it's no worse than Skyhold. I will survive."

Ellana nodded, content with her answer. "Alright. If you would excuse me, I must speak with my advisors."

Vivienne gave her a slight nod before waving a hand, dismissing her. Ellana turned, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, and strode back to Josephine and Cullen. "Is everything set for our people?"

Josephine nodded, her smile tight. "The innkeeper is determined to make me haggle to the point of being impolite, but it will be done."

"Thank you, Josephine," Ellana replied with genuine gratitude. "I don't know what we would do without you."

Josephine looked taken aback by her sincerity. "Ah, there is no need to thank me, Inquisitor. Excuse me - I should get back to dealing with this... man." She swiftly stalked back towards the innkeeper, talking lowly with him and gesticulating wildly.

Ellana watched her go briefly before turning to Cullen, a smirk on her face. "So - an inn for a night, in a foreign country..."

"Surrounded by our men, who are already gossiping about us," Cullen finished dryly, glancing around and seeing multiple eyes on them. "Not the most romantic of situations."

Ellana smirked at him, her fingers twitching from wanting to touch him. "We could give them something to talk about."

"No," he said sternly, crossing his arms. "We've discussed this."

She almost pouted, looking put out. "Spoilsport."

He merely smirked at her disappointment and then glanced around once more. Noticing fewer eyes, he leaned into her, whispering in her ear. "You can 'borrow' me later. Stables in two hours."

Her eyes widened and she stared at him, a grin overtaking her face briefly before she schooled her expression, nodding solemnly. "Of course, Commander."

Dinner was soon served, a delicious looking plate full of meats and mashed tubers, but Ellana found herself unable to concentrate on her food. Cullen sat beside her, and she tried to sit very still as she felt his fingers tracing her thighs. He continued eating as if he was not driving her to distraction, her only proof that he knew what he was doing a wry grin he sent in her direction when he thought no one was looking. Dorian, of course, caught the look, and only raised his beer and wriggled his eyebrows. Ellana colored brightly, downing her drink to create an excuse for her flushing cheeks.

She found herself counting down the minutes until she could make him pay for driving her to the brink of insanity.

Two hours later found Ellana stumbling into the stables in the dark of night as she snuck out of the inn. She bit out a curse as she nearly tripped on the threshold, and she was suddenly pressed against the stable wall, covered by Cullen as he kissed her fiercely. Her hands wrapped around his torso and she returned his kisses with much fervor, biting his lip gently as they separated.

"You're awfully eager." She grinned up at him, a hand tracing the armor on his chest. "Miss me?"

He chuckled, kissing her once more before replying. "Must you make me say it?"

She shrugged, trying to look innocent. "We've been riding for days with barely a moment to say hello to each other. I can't deny it sounds - mm!" He kissed her again, interrupting her reply.

"I missed you," he murmured in her ear, and she was glad she was already leaning against a wall because her knees instantly went to jelly.

"Oh," she said dumbly, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape as she tried to form complete words. "I, um - oh."

He laughed at her reaction and kissed her again, and she showed, rather than told him, the words she wanted to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's voice is magical. S'all I'm saying.


	33. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world doesn't end because Ellana dances.

"Can we go anywhere and not have people try to murder us, for once?" Dorian muttered, dusting himself off in distaste as the last harlequin fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Vivienne laughed, sparing him a glance as her lips turned up in amusement. "This is Orlais, darling - I would be worried if someone didn't try to finish off our Inquisitor before the end of the night."

"I'm honored, then," Ellana replied sarcastically, pulling her sword from a fallen harlequin and grimacing at the blood staining her uniform. "Josephine is going to kill me," she moaned, wiping the blade off with the harlequin's clothes.

Vivienne sniffed delicately, looking around the now empty courtyard. "I am going to burn these rags the moment we leave. What dreadful uniforms; I don't know how you convinced me to wear this."

Ellana shrugged, tugging the collar of the jacket. "Be thankful - it could have been worse. Imagine if it still had ruffles. I had to talk Josephine out of that one."

"The Commander looks very handsome, though, doesn't he, Ellana?" Dorian muttered next to her, and grinned when she turned a wonderful shade of scarlet as she glared at him.

"Could we discuss the... fashion, later?" Cassandra interrupted, glancing between the three irritably. "I'd rather first ensure the Empress lives."

"Of course, Cassandra." Ellana replied, almost a bit too quickly, sheathing her sword and turning to Dorian. "How do I look?"

He barely spared her a glance. "Like a walking disaster."

"Ass," she muttered at him, and he snorted in reply.

They began to make their way back through the maze of hallways, rushing through them as quickly as they could. The bells began to ring as she reached the doors to the main ballroom, and she stopped to adjust her uniform and vainly tried to fix her hair before taking a deep breath and entering the room. Cullen noticed her entrance and immediately rushed to her, concern written on his face.

"Thank the Maker you're back!" He exclaimed, eyeing the blood spatters on her uniform and her hair in disarray. "The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?"

Ellana glanced between him and Florianne, who she spotted on the other side of the ballroom with Gaspard, before her lips thinned into a grim line. "Wait here, Cullen. I'm going to have a word with the Grand Duchess."

"What?" Cullen started, his expression turning to worry. "There is no time! The Empress is about to begin her speech."

She placed a hand on his arm, gazing up at him. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life," he answered immediately, and she bit her lip to stop smiling at his answer. She squeezed his arm gently and walked around him, serenely strolling to the dance floor. He turned to watch her go, unsure but unwilling to interfere. 

He watched her gallantly sweep onto the now empty dance floor, and heard the chorus of gasps that arose as she laid plain the Grand Duchesses guilt. Florianne fell to the floor in disbelief as her plan fell to pieces around her, unable to even struggle as the chevaliers dragged her away.

The court of Halamshiral was quiet for mere moments before the uproar began, the nobles reacting with hysterical tears, angered whispers, and some even began shouting at each other over the veracity of the Inquisitor's claims. He couldn't find her in the near riot; but then she reappeared as the Empress and Briala addressed the crowd. The murmurs then began again in earnest, the scandal of an elf being granted titles not being lost on the court.

Ellana then disappeared again until Cullen found her leaning against the balcony. Morrigan passed by him, and he glanced at her, his eyes narrowing as he tried to place where he'd seen her before. He quickly refocused on Ellana and approached her, and she stared into the distance, acknowledging him with only a glance in his direction.

"There you are," he said warmly, settling next to her and resting his elbows on the balcony rail. "Everyone's been looking for you. Things have calmed down for the moment - are you alright?"

She finally turned to him, her expression weary. "I'm just worn out. Tonight has been... very long."

"For all of us," he agreed, examining her closely to make sure she was unhurt. "I'm glad it's over."

She barely reacted, staring again into the distance, and he attempted a smile before placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know it's foolish, but I was worried about you."

She made a face at him, her nose scrunching up adorably, but did not reply, still morose. He looked into the ballroom as the music began to swell again and made a decision, backing away from her. She turned to watch him, confused.

"I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask," he began, a smile on his face as he held his hand out to her. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Ellana smiled in return, her face lighting up in delight as she accepted, slipping her hand into his own. "Of course. I thought you didn't dance?"

He chuckled softly, pulling her close to him as they began a slow waltz. "For you? I'll try."

It didn't matter that he stepped on her toes twice, or that she on his. She felt his gloved hands, warm within her own as he dramatically swept her across the balcony, and she almost forgot about the weight on her shoulders, with the stress of courtly intrigue and the fate of Orlais gnawing restlessly at her thoughts. As he smiled at her, pulling her close to him as the song ended, she knew that he would always bring her back from the brink - and she would never let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Dorian are probably the only people who look decent (amazing?) in the uniform. Poor Ellana looked like a child trying to wear her father's clothes.


	34. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Ellana discuss the mark.

"Will this ever leave me?" 

Solas looked up from his papers as Ellana stood in the doorway to his haunt, staring at the mark that glowed faintly in her hand. He considered her before rising from his desk and striding over to her.

"I am unsure, but - I do not believe so, lethallan," he replied, stopping a respectable distance in front of her. "Does it worry you?"

She turned her gaze to him, full of despair, and he felt regret gnaw at his heart. "I just -" she began, looking back at the ground before continuing. "I still consider how I am connected to the rifts. A key must open as well as lock, does it not? Could I ... could I have done this? Somehow?"

He shook his head, disagreeing. "No. As I told you before - you are no mage, and getting this mark required the use of much magical energy. I highly doubt you could have caused this."

"Was I complicit, though?" She said, her voice turning to frustration. "I can't - I can't remember a damn thing!" Her marked hand clenched into a fist and nearly shook at her side. "How else could I have received this - this curse, on my skin?"

"Lethallan," he began, stressing the word as best he could. "You are of noble spirit - you work to help everyone around you every day. I do not believe for a second that you would be capable of such a thoughtless act."

She sighed, leaning against the frame. "You think too highly of me, Solas. I just do what must be done."

"You did not have to ease my friend's passing, but you did," he replied, straightening his posture as he regarded her. "I am thankful for that every day."

"Who could watch someone suffer like that?" She exclaimed, frowning at him. "Who could be that heartless?"

He chuckled at her reaction, shaking his head at her innocence. "Exactly what I mean."

They stood together in companionable silence before Ellana spoke up again. "Do you think that - this has changed me?"

"Changed you?" Solas parroted back, blinking in confusion.

"Physically," Ellana began, staring at the mark again. "Before, I never could touch the fade, remember it - but now... I have this magic attached to me. Could I be possessed? Can I - am I - still the same?"

"Do you hear the whispers of demons in your sleep? In your waking moments?" Solas inquired, raising a brow at her.

Ellana looked startled. "No. Does - is that what you hear?"

Solas laughed again, a mysterious smile on his face. "That is the common mage experience, yes? If you do not hear such things, then I think you are safe in that regard."

She looked sheepish, glancing away before refocusing on him. "I suppose you're right. I'm - I must have disturbed you, didn't I? I'm sorry - you should return to whatever you were doing."

"It is no trouble," Solas replied, nodding at her mark. "It is still new and strange to you, and it is natural to be curious. If you have any more questions, I will answer as best as I can."

That drew a genuine smile from her. "Thank you, Solas. I promise not to bother you too often."

He inclined his head at her before moving to sit down at his desk. By the time he reached it and settled into his chair, he heard the door to the walkway open and close only by the whisper of wind blowing through the way. He smiled to himself, knowing where she was heading despite her attempts to be discrete. He pretended that he didn't notice, though, and tried to return to his papers - but they would not capture his attention again, the flickering of candlelight drawing him back into the past.


	35. Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana considers her trials.

A deep inhale; then, the almost silent snap of the bowstring as the arrow flew through the air, hungering for a target.

An exhale as the arrow struck true, blood spurting from the wound as a templar fell to his knees, staring at the fletchings as he began to lose his tenuous connection with the world.

Another arrow strikes, severing it, and he slumps over, gone.

Ellana did not like killing, even when it had to be done - even for her own defense, and even when her foes were so far gone to red lyrium that she wasn't quite sure if they could be called human any longer. So she tossed and turned in her sleep, screaming apologies to the faces that haunted her, twisted and malformed by Corypheus' mad quest for godhood. Sometimes they left her as she pleaded, but other times she found herself surrounded by the legion that she had killed, grasping at her with lifeless hands.

In her waking moments she wondered if those men and women had families waiting for them at home, girls with pig-tails and skinned knees that waited at the windowsill, or brothers and sisters who looked to the stars and prayed to their Maker that their sibling would return to them soon.

She wasn't thinking now, though, only reacting - and her fingers twitched and plucked another arrow from her quiver as she shot another templar. A woman this time, her hair mottled and speckled with red lyrium as she charged, releasing a blood curdling cry as she held her sword high, the light of day glinting on the blade and nearly blinding her.

A burst of blood and brain matter as Ellana's arrow struck her in the head, and the templar dropped to the grass almost instantly, the light leaving her eyes. Ellana crouched and examined the body quietly before her fingers quickly moved to the templar's face, her fingers gently pulling the woman's eyelids closed. She closed her own eyes and spoke softly, the words foreign on her tongue.

"Draw your last breath, my friends,  
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.  
Rest at the Maker's right hand,  
And be Forgiven."

She remembered the day Cullen first spoke the words to her, his hands clasping her fingers tightly as she told him haltingly of her nightmares, of her inability to sleep through the night. His lips pressed against her ear and murmured the Canticle of Trials, and she frowned at him as he finished, trying not to feel offended by his faith.

"I do not believe in your Maker," she grumbled, beginning to move away from him.

"They are not for you," he replied, squeezing her hands gently, keeping her where she stood. He pulled away from her ear to press a soft kiss on her lips. "They will hear, and you will be forgiven; as I would have forgiven."

Was she forgiven? She would never know, for the dead could not speak despite their insistence of disturbing her sleep. But his belief had comforted her, and she had memorized the words, allowing them to fall haltingly from her lips as she gazed upon the dead who once believed in the Maker, hoping that the verses of their Chant would ease their travels to whatever halls called them.

"Why weren't you wearing a helmet?" Ellana whispered, reality filtering back to her as she still sat on her heels. "I wonder how you lost it, if you ever had one." She breathed in deeply before tugging the arrow from the skull, sighing at the ruined arrow tip before throwing it to the side.

She glanced up to her companions and saw Varric reloading Bianca with a grim expression, scanning the area around them for more templars. Vivienne stood haughtily, carefully removing the blood from her clothing with a flick of her hand as she gazed down at the corpses at her feet with distaste. 

"I think we got them all, Boss," she heard Iron Bull say behind her, and she stood, still staring down at the body, before turning to him and nodding.

"Let's keep moving," Ellana said, slinging her bow across her shoulders. "We need to get back to Skyhold."

To home, she thought to herself, thinking of her Commander sitting at his desk, the stub of a candle gathering wax as he worked through the night. To to the end of yet another trial.


	36. Perseverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen struggles to make a decision; Ellana helps.

Ellana opened the door just to narrowly miss a projectile to the face. Glass shattered as it fell out of a box and hit the floor, sickly blue lyrium pooling on the stone. She froze, only barely turning her head to glance at Cullen.

"Maker's breath! I didn't hear you enter, I - " He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he moved towards her. "Forgive me." 

Ellana looked at the fragments of glass before looking up at him, concern written on her face. "Cullen, if you need to talk - "

"You don't have to - " Cullen grunted, falling against his desk as his knees weakened. He paused, regaining his bearings before addressing her again. "I never meant for this to interfere."

"Are you going to be alright?" Ellana took a step forward and stopped, unsure of if she should try to help him.

"Yes," he answered immediately, and then sighed, looking away. "I don't know."

He turned to the window, staring out at nothing, unable to look at her. "You asked what happened to Ferelden's Circle - it was taken over by abominations. The templars, my friends, were slaughtered. I was - tortured. They tried to break my mind and I," he laughed, an almost hysterical sound that chilled her to the bone. "How can you be the same person after that? Still. I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Hm? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?" He spun to look at Ellana, who started, not expecting him to address her.

She took another step towards him. "Of course I can. I - "

"Don't!" He interrupted her, and she froze, staring at him in surprise. He brought a hand to his face, irritated at himself, before moving to stand in front of her. "You should be questioning what I've done. I thought this would be better, that I would regain some control over my life but - these thoughts wont leave me!" He began to pace, his hands gesticulating wildly. "How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause. I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did to the Chantry. I should be taking it!" He balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into his bookcase, books flying to the floor. 

"I should be taking it," he whispered, still shaking, his breaths heaving.

Ellana regarded him carefully before she finally spoke, moving closer to him. "This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what you want?"

He looked at her and let out a deep breath. "No," he finally answered, uncurling his fist and looking at her, his expression torn. "But - these memories have always haunted me - if they become worse, if I cannot endure this - "

"You can," Ellana answered immediately. "You're not alone in this, Cullen." She hesitantly lifted a hand to his cheek when he gave her a shaky smile, and frowned at his temperature, moving the inside of her wrist to his forehead. She pursed her lips, displeased at how he burned against her skin. "You're feverish."

He lifted a hand to hers, gently removing it. "I'm fine. I have to - "

"No." Ellana shook her head, gripping his hand tightly in response. "Whatever you need to do today can wait. You're about to fall over."

Cullen stiffened, his eyes narrowing at her. "I am fine," he nearly seethed, punctuating each word in anger.

"Don't make me order you, Commander," Ellana snarled in response, her voice heated. "I will not let you collapse in front of all of your men. You're being stubborn, and you know it. You need to rest."

They both glared intensely at the other, but Cullen looked away first, deflating.

"Where do you sleep?" She asked softly, rubbing her thumb in circles on the back of his hand. He glanced upwards, and she followed his gaze, groaning. "Are you serious? Of course you are. Alright, get up there. I'll be right back."

She waited until she saw him finish climbing up the ladder before she wandered Skyhold for a basin and washcloths, and informing Cassandra that she would need her to take over Cullen's duties for the rest of the day. She returned to Cullen's office and climbed up the ladder one handed, the basin biting into her hip. When she reached the top, she saw Cullen sprawled onto his bed, his armor removed and laying haphazardly around the floor.

She set the basin down, and began to unlace his boots, pulling them off of his feet and arranging them next to the bed. She then wrestled the covers from underneath him and then pulled them over his form. He opened his eyes, dazed and his vision unfocused, but he finally recognized her and tried to sit up. "Ellana. You don't need to - "

"No, Cullen," she said firmly, pushing him back down. "You've been here for me. Let me return the favor."

She knelt next to the bed and dipped the washcloth in the cold water, wringing it out before placing it on Cullen's forehead. She took another and gently dabbed off the sweat that began to accumulate on his face and neck. His eyes fluttered back closed, and she searched his face for pain. Finding none, she settled on the ground and waited, occasionally replacing a warmed washcloth with one freshly dipped in cold water onto his head. 

Eventually she fell asleep leaning on the bed, her arms settled on the mattress and her head nestled onto her forearms as she watched her Commander dream.

She woke to Cullen thrashing around the bed and nearly screaming in his sleep, and she sprung up, trying to hold him down and barely succeeding. "Cullen! Cullen, wake up!"

His eyes opened with a start and he stared at her in disbelief. "Ellana. You're - still here."

"Can't get rid of me that easy," she said nervously, slipping a strand of hair behind her ear. "Unless - if you want me to go - "

"No," he said softly, reaching over to her hand and squeezing it. "Thank you. I - there's not even a chair for you here."

She surveyed the room to confirm before looking back up at him and shrugged, climbing into the bed with him, ignoring the sudden pain in her knees from moving from her position on the floor.

He sat up suddenly, staring at her, his flush running down to meet his chest. "I don't think -"

"Oh, stop it," she said softly, scolding him. "I'm not propositioning you. I'll stay over the covers and you stay under; it'll be the most proper impropriety." She threw an arm around him before he could protest further, snuggling into his shoulder.

Cullen relaxed and laid back, turning to look at her. Her eyes were creased with worry, and she looked exhausted after looking after him throughout the day. He kissed her softly in gratitude before pulling her close to him by her waist, his heart thudding nervously in his chest. She melded with his body perfectly and he could feel her warmth despite the blanket between them, and he sighed, content.

He fell into a dreamless sleep, the nightmares leaving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene stuck with me, especially because you see Cullen's struggle in the first two games but he doesn't really talk about it except in passing. I didn't really like how it ended though - "oh hey, nice struggle you got there, gotta run!"
> 
>  
> 
> Also - Greg Ellis is a fantastic voice actor.


	37. Leliana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana goes to Leliana for advice.

Ellana climbed the stairs to the rookery, her mind troubled. She found Leliana kneeling at her small shrine, her voice quietly singing the Chant.

"My Creator, judge me whole:  
Find me well within Your grace,  
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed,  
Tell me I have sung to Your approval."

Ellana waited quietly, contemplating her new relationship with the Chant of Light. Her whole life, she had learned under the tutelage of the Dalish, her head full of the myths and songs of her people. The Chant of Light was always spoken of with a sort of disdain, a haughty sense of superiority that mocked the sensibilities of the shemlen.

Now that she has heard the Chant in so many of its forms - spoken reverently, sung joyously, whispered in comfort - she couldn't cling to that smug feeling of righteousness that she once felt. She still did not believe - but the Chant was beautiful in its own right, a creation of hope and sacrifice that she could respect.

So she stood quietly, allowing Leliana to continue her prayers without interruption, waiting to be addressed. 

"Inquisitor," Leliana finally greeted her, standing up and turning to her. "May I be of assistance?"

Ellana stared at Leliana, the words she wanted to say jumbled in her head, before she gave up, sitting down heavily on a bench, staring at the ground. Leliana gazed at her quietly, now waiting for her to speak.

The words came to her slowly, stuttering out of her lips. "I - Cullen spoke to me of what happened in Kinloch Hold during the Blight."

Leliana's posture stiffened for a mere fraction before relaxing again, her face blank. "Yes?"

"You traveled with the Hero of Ferelden," Ellana began, looking at her hands. "Were you -"

"I was there," Leliana said shortly, crossing her arms, "and it was one of the worst experiences of my life. I do not wish to discuss it."

Ellana shook her head, raising her hands up in apology. "I didn't - I can't ask for details. That's not what I came here for."

"Then what?" Leliana furrowed her brows, anger in her voice. "Did you just come here to dredge up old, painful memories?"

Ellana looked up abruptly, eyes wide at Leliana's ire, before nearly collapsing into herself. "No - I just... How did you - how does one get past it? He told me what happened and - he can be there in an instant, reliving every horrible second as if it were only yesterday."

Leliana's anger cooled quickly at the misery in Ellana's voice, and she considered her quietly before speaking. "I forget you are so young," Leliana began, sitting next to her on the bench. "I still remember every detail of that day, and I was not... Cullen's experiences are - part of him. You can't take away that without destroying who he is, even if it is... unpleasant."

"I don't want to do that," Ellana whispered, staring at her hands. "But he carries so much - and ten years later, it still haunts his dreams, feeds his nightmares. He's too - he is a good man. He doesn't deserve this."

"Rarely do we get what we deserve. Life has taught me this," Leliana said softly, her voice pained as she looked at something that wasn't there, flashes of a previous life filling her vision. She came back into focus and laid a gentle hand on Ellana's own, squeezing lightly.  
"You make his days better than you know. Cullen was - he is trying to prove something to himself, but you remind him to smile. I've noticed the difference; it is nice to see him happy, for once, even if he continues to try to hide it behind his serious demeanor."

Ellana flushed, unable to look at Leliana. "Oh, Creators, is it that obvious?"

"It's been obvious since the moment you met. You two kept looking at each other when you thought the other was not looking," Leliana said wryly, humor coloring her voice as she eyed the Inquisitor's reddening cheeks. "It was very... cute."

Ellana made a strangled noise of disgust. "I should leave before I throw myself off the balcony in embarrassment," Ellana muttered, standing up. She hesitated before bowing slightly to Leliana. "Thank you for speaking with me, Sister. I - feel better, now."

Leliana nodded slightly, an almost forgotten smile ghosting on her lips as she watched Ellana leave. To be called a Sister in its true capacity at a time like this was somehow more comforting than the prayers that she sent fruitlessly to the Maker. She stared at her hands, remembering the history that she helped mold with a woman she had cherished, and considered how time had fled her. Ten years since the Circle of Ferelden, ten years since the day she met Cullen trapped in his magical barrier, ranting about the demons that had ruined him.

She couldn't bring herself to smile any longer with the memories of the smell of burning flesh, the sight of blood washed on the walls - but her heart felt at peace with the thought of Cullen finding happiness despite the memories that plagued him.

Perhaps she, too, would have a chance soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Leliana (in my personal canon) - heart broken by Marjolaine, fell in love with my warden but lost to Alistair, and now Divine Justinia dead ... girl can never catch a break.


	38. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana goes away, and Cullen tries to remember.

The days somehow stretched longer when she was away, Cullen noted for the thousandth time as he sat at his desk, trying to read another missive from Ser Rylen about the state of the supplies in Skyhold. He had dozens of similar reports from keeps and strongholds that Ellana had managed to wrestle from the hands of her foes throughout Ferelden and Orlais. She was traveling for the benefit of the Inquisition, to bolster their forces and improve their standing in Thedas.

He knew these things, and had even helped plan the expedition to the Hissing Wastes in earnest - but it didn't stop the fact that he missed her in his arms, the scent of wildflowers in her hair. He tried to remember the exact shape of her mouth, the feel of it pressed against his own, and frowned when the curve of her lips danced at the edge of his memory.

His eyes drifted to the single letter he had received from her in her time away, and he grasped it now in his hand, deciphering her almost illegible scrawl. He stood up and moved to the window, trying to catch the last light of day.

"My Commander," he read aloud, a smile drifting onto his face at the words. "A thousand plagues on your house for sending me to this forsaken place without you by my side. I knew how long we would be apart, but now that I am experiencing it, I suggest that we do not attempt this again. Also - If I never see sand again, I would be ever so happy..."

\--

"But I would give anything to see you - ugh! No, too much," Ellana muttered, crossing out the words before biting the end of her quill, sighing at her atrocious handwriting. She sat near the edge of the campfire, the light of the flames casting shadows on her paper as she contemplated her words.

The sands of the Hissing Wastes blew gently around her as the full moon dominated the heavens, the stars twinkling in the clear sky. It was freezing, and she would much rather be warm under her furs, but she would never have time to write a letter unless she did it now. So she stole a pen and a roll of parchment from Solas, and now found herself composing a letter. Dorian saw her - and curious, walked over to peek at her composition, snickering quietly when he figured out to whom she was writing.

"Is that Elvish?" Dorian questioned innocently, peering over her shoulder. Ellana nearly jumped out of her sitting position in surprise, covering the letter with her hands.

"W-What? I - no! It's the common tongue," Ellana answered, frowning at the mage in confusion. "Only the Keepers know how to write in our language."

Dorian raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure? It looked like the scribbles of a child."

She bared her teeth at him, and he laughed, walking away. She turned back to her letter, grumbling. "Dorian..."

\--

" ... is making fun of me again," Cullen continued, laughing at the way she underlined the word three times. "Is my writing that bad? Anyways - lots of sand, not a lot of Venatori. Definitely no sign of Corypheus. I'm unsure what he is planning on getting from this wretched desert, except perhaps my sanity. If that was his goal, then he may succeed..."

He looked up from the letter as the door to his office opened, and a pair of soldiers filtered in. He placed it on his desk before nodding to them, effortlessly shifting from the man to the title. "Report."

One of the soldiers saluted him. "The new recruits have been found lodging and will begin training within the next few days. We've also begun uncovering more of the soldiers quarters in the hold as you requested, so that we can fit everyone who has been making pilgrimage here."

"Very good," Cullen answered, considering. "Ensure that I get an estimate of how many rooms that will be. We may need to consider constructing more temporary housing while that is underway if we continue to get as many volunteers."

"Commander," the other began, saluting him as well. "We've received word from Sister Leliana's contacts. The Inquisitor should be arriving back at Skyhold within the next day or so."

He schooled his face to contain his relief at the news. "That is good to hear. Dismissed."

He waited until the door closed behind them before picking the letter back up and moving to the window, unable to further hide the grin from his face. His eyes flittered over the contents he had just read before settling on what he was reading before the interruption.

"If that was his goal, then he may succeed. I jest - I feel your displeasure from here, Cullen. I am in good health and spirits, and good humor despite my grumblings. I am sure we will be successful in thwarting some plot while we are here - I will make sure of it. If I am to be in this blighted hole, I might as well accomplish something." 

He smiled at her determination, the way the tip of her pen dug into the parchment as she wrote the words.

"By the way, did I mention the sand? I may never forgive you. I will return to you as soon as I am able. Ellana."

There were little drawings at the bottom of the page, crude scrawls of various parts of anatomy. A small image of Sera with her tongue stuck out was drawn over a sentence in Sera's hand. "Sera was here! P.S: She mopes like a kicked Mabari."

He folded the letter and placed it carefully in a drawer on his desk, before sitting back down and continuing to read reports. Hours passed and the words began to blur in his vision, but he rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up. He managed to read another half of a report before he finally gave up, glancing at the half-burned candle on his desk and blowing it out. He stumbled through the dark, scrambling up the ladder and stripping off his armor before collapsing into bed.

The sun had barely begun to rise when he awoke from a nightmare with a gasp, drenched in a cold sweat that chilled his skin and dampened his bed sheets. He felt a warmth at his side and stiffened in surprise. He looked over to find Ellana curled into him, soft puffs of breath escaping her lips as she slept peacefully. She still wore all of her leathers, only her boots neatly arranged next to the bed.

He sat up slightly and lifted a hand to her cheek and couldn't help the smile that her presence brought to his face. She mumbled something incoherent in her sleep as he moved, curling even further into herself. His other hand found itself in her hair, strands twirled around his fingers as he lowered himself to press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. 

She woke then, her eyes fluttering open, almost confused, before she looked up at him and smiled sleepily. "Hi."

"Good morning," he said quietly, pushing her hair away from her face as he regarded her. "When did you return?"

"Mm," she began, closing her eyes for a moment. "Not too long ago. I thought maybe you would be - " she paused, a small yawn escaping her lips, "working late, but I found you up here and I would've felt horrible waking you just to say hello... and climbing back down the ladder was not an option."

"I wouldn't have minded," he said softly, kissing the lips that he had nearly forgotten, wondering at how they were softer than he remembered. "You've been gone for months."

"Three months, two weeks, and five and a half days," she replied automatically, before covering her face with her hands. "Not that I've been keeping track," she muttered, her voice muffled by her palms.

He gently grasped her hands, pulling them away from her face and into him, kissing her deeply. She sighed against his mouth.

"I missed you," she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him, to re-memorize the angles of his face and the exact color of his irises.

"And I you," he answered, pressing kisses on her fingertips. She smiled brilliantly before leaning in to grant him yet another kiss, and he brought her closer to him, holding her tightly in his arms. 

They stayed like that for an hour, laying in his bed and chatting quietly about her expedition. She sat up at some point, waving her hands as she told him one of the tales from her adventure.

"And then Blackwall asks Solas - if any of the spirits that he met in the Fade were more than just friends, 'if you know what I mean'." Ellana snickered, pausing to control her laughter before continuing. "You should have seen his face - it turned such an interesting shade of purple."

Cullen snorted, leaning on his arm as he gazed at her. "And what did he say?"

Ellana began to giggle again. "I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was definitely the most non-answer I've had the pleasure of hearing - and I've been to Orlais! So now we all know the real reason for all this Fade hopping..." 

She glanced up at the sunlight pouring into the room from the broken ceiling, before looking back at him. "I should probably go, before I can't slip out unnoticed," she said to him, already planning her escape in her minds eye.

"Stay," he replied, and she looked at him in surprise. "Let them talk," he murmured as he pulled her down, wrapping her in his arms. "I find myself not caring at the moment."

She smiled against his chest, her lips ghosting against his skin.


	39. Neria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen remembers the broken Circle.

Cullen once cursed his survival in Kinloch Hold, the memories pressing against him like a relentless storm. He felt the guilt gnaw at his insides, crawling on his skin; angry hands that gripped him and tried to pull him under to drown him in his grief. His mind always wandered to her then, her face all but faded in his memory after ten years of death.

Neria Surana. Sweet, gentle Neria. He could only remember her now by the color of her hair, red as flames against her pale skin. An Elven mage of incredible promise, he heard whispered in the Circle halls; some voices echoed the words in jealousy, others in fear and awe. He only knew that he found her incredibly beautiful, a delicate flower that had blossomed by the time of her Harrowing.

As a templar, he was discouraged from fraternizing with the mages - but he found it impossible to avoid her, to not take notice of her. She had charmed nearly all of the Circle Tower with her warmth and strength of spirit; First Enchanter Irving doted on her, and at least half of the templars had gentle feelings for her. He was no exception. She never failed to greet him or any of the other templars, always saying hello with a sweet smile as she passed them in the halls, giving them a small wave as her other hand clutched a book close to her chest.

He would always smuggle her favorite sweet rolls from the dining hall, flushing as her face lit up in happiness at his offering. She would thank him and gift him with a smile, shy and beautiful, and he would stutter that it was his pleasure. Their interactions were always small and fleeting, because he took his duty seriously and could not allow himself to admit that the feelings that he felt for her were more than simple friendship.

The day she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, a gentle blush coloring her face - to say he was shocked would be an understatement. He stuttered (more than usual, at least) and ran away from her, unable to reconcile his infatuation and his duty as a templar.

She had eventually won out, though - and they often found themselves in empty hallways, placing unpracticed kisses upon each other in the shadow of darkness. She told him that she loved him, gifting him with a lock of her hair tied with a silk ribbon. He accepted the gift and always hid it on his person, the red strands bringing him comfort in the privacy of his dorms.

The night they had given themselves to each other - she had brought his hands to her robes, looking at him in the eyes and telling him that she wanted to give herself to him, that she loved him. Now, he can only remember the way that they had fumbled in the dark, the way his stomach had twisted in nervousness and shame. The way his heart had nearly burst out of his chest with his love for her.

He had sworn himself from her then, refusing to speak with her unless absolutely necessary, the overwhelming shame paralyzing his senses. The lock of hair found itself smoldering in the fireplace as he closed his eyes in pain, trying to erase their love from his memory. He tried to ignore the hurt looks and the muffled cries that he could hear when he passed by her room, because was a templar, and he could not go against his vows any longer.

It did not make it hurt any less.

The day the madness began, he had found her running through the halls of the third floor, a fireball gathering strength between her fingertips as she looked around frantically. He grabbed her by the arm and negated her magic, the fireball disappearing from her hands in a blink.

She stared at him, startled by his roughness. "Cullen? What are you doing? I'm not - What is going on? Why - why are there demons?"

He let go of her then, apologetic. "I'm sorry, I - I don't know. They're coming from the upper levels. You need to leave!"

Neria started, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh, sweet Maker. First Enchanter Irving - all the senior enchanters - they're up there for a meeting! We have to help them!"

"You need to get out of here," he had repeated, shaking his head. "It's dangerous."

She had only smiled at his words, leaning on her staff as she looked at him, the hurt still shining through her eyes. "Don't worry about me, Cullen. We need to help the enchanters stop whatever this is."

They had run through the hallways together, then, guiding any survivors towards the lower levels and quickly dispatching any demons that blocked their path. He felt his blood sing as they fought together, a flurry of magic and steel that drove all of their foes back to the Fade.

They had fought halfway through the fourth floor when the demons became more numerous, and he began to truly feel fear. His sword and shield felt heavy in his hands as he blocked, parried, and struck the abominations and demons that endlessly poured from the highest levels, and he began to wonder if this was a fool's errand. His brothers and sisters were nowhere to be seen, and the blood that stained the walls and the bodies that he refused to examine closely gave him little hope.

Neria was beginning to falter, her skin paling even further as she fought to gather more of the Fade around her, trying to feel its whispering across her skin. Her magic was raw and powerful, but she was still young and untrained, and the fatigue made her unsteady on her feet. Sweat dripped off of her brow as she sent another magical blast through the air, smiling in grim satisfaction as the demon shrieked in pain and flailed into oblivion.

Cullen had thrust his sword into the belly of a demon when he heard Neria cry out, and he turned only to see her throw herself in front of him. The smell of ozone filled the air as she called down a lightning strike that shocked the demon to stillness - but only for a moment, for then the rage demon's talons raked down her form, blood spurting from the wounds. 

"No!" he had shouted, watching her fall to her knees as her scream pierced the air. He pulled his sword out of the demon in front of him, ready to strike the other who had hurt her. He plunged his sword into the neck of the beast as she lifted her hand one last time to cast his sword in flames - and the demon let out one last cry as it ceased to be. 

When he was sure the demon was dead, he threw down his sword and shield, scrambling to her and cradling her form in his arms.

"Cullen," she had managed to smile, her stained teeth red with her blood. 

"Why?" He yelled at her, nearly shaking her in his anguish. "Why would you do this, Neria? Especially after all that I've done?"

She tried to answer, but could only gag on her own blood as it rose up her throat.

"You'll be fine - we'll get you to the healers," he told her, fruitlessly pressing his hand against the tear that ran across her entire torso, her blood slippery against the metal of his gauntlet. "I'm so sorry, Neria," he choked, the tears clouding his vision and clogging his throat. "Please don't - I love you. I love you! You can't..."

She weakly lifted a hand, tugging him down to press a last, chaste kiss onto his cheek and leaving a trail of blood, sticky and hot against his skin. She shuddered, and he watched helplessly as her body stiffened and the light fled her eyes.

Everything was red, then - her hair, her clothes, her blood pooling on the stone floor.

He cradled her form, sobbing hysterically as he clutched her close to him until the demons reappeared, snarling and hateful. Then his sword was in his hands and he was on his feet, screaming with rage and despair, and he fought until he was overwhelmed and the demons closed in on him. When the darkness took him, and he was glad - for he would at least be at her side in death even though he could not in life.

But when he awoke, he was not by her side but in a prison with his brothers and his sisters, their forms twisted and abused by Uldred's depravity. He wanted to break down, to give in to the demons that whispered in his ear and offered him all the things that he knew he could not have; but then he remembered their tortured screams, the way their bodies crumpled into nothingness as they gave into their fantasies, and he held fast onto a tenuous strain of control. 

Control was all that kept him alive until the Hero of Ferelden had appeared, her eyes soft and pitying as she refused to slaughter all of the mages that survived. He remembered her voice, sharp as steel, and he remembered the anger that bubbled up inside of him at her words. All of his brothers and sisters were dead - Neria was dead - all because of their leniency, and he would stand for it no longer.

There were more pitying eyes as the Chantry mothers set their hands gently on his shoulder at his story. The guilt of survival, they said; the Maker would guide his path if he allowed Him. But no amount of prayer would cleanse the anger and pain that clawed at his heart, and he suffered, continued to suffer for years after.

But now, as Ellana looks up at him, an impish smile on her face and her cerulean eyes alive and shining as she races him through the Skyhold courtyard, her laughter filling the air - he doesn't curse the fact that he survived the broken Circle. The pain of loss has not gone away, but dulled - a hurt that pinches only at the edges rather than constantly overwhelming him with despair.

And Neria - sweet Neria, lovely Neria - he will never forget her, never stop loving the memory of what had been and what could have been; but now, his heart is filled anew, a light that shines despite the darkness that surrounds it. And now he thanks her instead of cursing her for his life, because now, after all the trials and tribulations, he is finally happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listened to this on repeat while writing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8D0_mglcEAw
> 
> Actually, I kind of feel like it describes Cullen perfectly... melancholy, but hopeful.


	40. Waterside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen takes Ellana near Honnleath.

Cullen examined the coin resting in his palm, the face of Andraste staring coolly back at him. He closed his hand around it, looking over to see Ellana examining at him curiously. He remembered the moment his brother gave it to him; he was thirteen years old, nervous, excited, and terrified as he bid his family goodbye for the first and last time. Instead of facing his mother's tears he had slipped out of the house, sneaking out to his favorite hiding spot.

The lake had been calm and serene as usual, the unending sound of water lapping up against the docks comforting to his troubled mind. He heard footsteps and waited, surprised when it was his brother, and not his eldest sister, who appeared next to him. They stood in companionable silence before his brother turned to look at him.

"Cullen," his brother had said, his demeanor unusually serious for his nature. He pressed the coin into his palm, the metal warm in his hand. "Take this - it will bring you luck in the days to come. You'll need it to even dream of passing templar training, so don't lose it, okay?"

He would have taken more offense to his brother's words if it were not for the look in his eyes, so he had given his brother a quick, tight hug and taken the coin from him, unable to say anything in response.

He hid it on his person as the he left with the templars, only barely able to say goodbye before he was whisked off by his new guardians. He wanted to serve the Maker, to help protect the innocent - he had chosen this life, so he refused to let his family see the tiny bit of fear that clung to him.

Now, he wished that he had taken a moment to tell his parents that he had loved them with more than the handshake he had given his father and the kiss he pressed onto his mother's cheek. Sickness had taken them before he had even taken his vows, and he never saw them again.

The silly coin that his brother gave to him had taken on more meaning, then - the single link to his past, to the family that still survived in Honnleath and knew Cullen the boy, rather than Cullen the templar, Cullen the survivor of horrors. When he wondered if that part of him still existed, he would stare at the coin and remember his brother's laugh, and the squeals of his sisters as they ran from each other through tall grasses, bare-footed and skirts pulled up past their knees. It was the single thread of sanity that kept him afloat after the disaster of the Fifth Blight, and he clung to it desperately.

Cullen never believed that the coin was actually lucky, his brother's words more important than the veracity of his claim. Yet despite his trials, he had been lucky, had he not? He could have died, should have died so many times in the years since he took his vows. And now...

Ten years later and the dock still stood bracing against the lake, the wood creaking under him as he shifted his feet; and ten years later he found himself back here, clutching the coin and wondering once again if he was taking the correct path in his life. But now, Ellana stood at his side, and he was the one who hoped that he could bring her any kind of fortune.

"Humor me," he began, taking one of her hands into his own and placing the coin into her palm with the other. "We don't know what you'll face before the end. This can't hurt."

When Ellana smiled and took the coin from his hands, he felt relieved. He hoped that she knew how much the coin meant to him - how he had promised himself that he would never lose the coin, never let it out of his sight. How much he needed her, that he was willing to give it to her.

"I'll keep it safe," she said quietly, staring at the treasure resting in her hand.

"Good," he whispered, pulling her close to him, his breath ghosting on her lips. "I know it's foolish, but - I'm glad."

May it protect her in the days to come, he prayed fervently as he kissed her gently, his arms wrapped around her as if to shield her. May it protect her, always.


	41. Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana gives Cullen a gift in return.

It was raining.

Raindrops fell through the hole in his ceiling and splattered, cold and wet on his eyelids. He groaned and pulled the bed sheets over his head, trying to salvage the last bit of sleep; and he was moments from drifting back to nothingness when the clouds shifted overhead with an ominous boom and released a deluge on him, drenching him and his bed. He yelped at the cold and rolled out of the bed, dragging the sheets with him to a spot protected by a overhang, and he sighed in relief as he pulled the sheets close to him. But now he could not even get close to sleeping, and he sighed and got up despite the early hour.

Now he sat at his desk, shivering as his rain-dampened clothes chilled his skin, his fingers leaving water stains on the reports that he tried to read. He knew not how long he had tried to read the reports, his eyes blurring from exhaustion, when the door opened and Ellana stood in the doorway, completely drenched and dripping water onto the stone floor.

He stood up when she simply stood in the doorway with her eyes downcast, her expression causing his stomach to twist in an unknown fear. "Cullen," she said hesitantly as she fidgeted, her eyes not leaving her feet.

He pulled her inside the room, closing the door behind her, and she walked into the center of the room, looking at something through the window behind his desk. Her clothes were completely soaked through, her boots leaving a trail of water and mud across the floor, and he knew that she had not simply walked through the way to him.

"Is something wrong?" His voice held a note of something indescribable, a fear that she couldn't place.

She turned to him then, her eyes wide and full of surprise. Wet strands of hair stuck to her face and she pushed them away, only for them to stubbornly fall back into place. "No - nothing is wrong. I just... your coin. It meant a lot to you. And - and I do not have much to give back to you," she said slowly, her left hand clenching, thumbing something within her palm.

He eyed her hand before he looked back up at her. "I didn't give it to you because I expected something in return," Cullen said gently, taking a step closer to her. "I gave it to you because - because I care about you deeply, Ellana."

She flushed at his words and looked at him shyly, a small smile finally reaching her face as she gained her courage. "I know. But I - I have something that is dear to me, too. Something that I wish to give to you." Her hands shook as she uncurled her trembling fingers, revealing a silver ring engraved with a symbol. She held it out to him, and he carefully took it from her and examined it closely.

It was a ring too large for her small fingers, he noted, but not large enough to fit on any of his. The silver shone warmly in the torchlight as it rested in the palm of his gloved hand. The symbol was a leafless tree, a series of branches encased in a shield.

"It was my father's," she explained, staring at the ring resting in his hand. "It is - it is the only thing that I have left of him."

Keeper Deshanna had given her the ring before she had left for the Conclave. It was a clear night with a cloudless sky, the flickers from the campfire causing the silver hanging off of the necklace in the Keeper's hands to glint in the light. She had placed the necklace on her, clasping it together behind Ellana's neck as she knelt in the dirt at her feet. The leather felt cold and foreign on her skin and she looked up at the Keeper, confused at the gift.

"Your father was a great man and hunter," she had said gently, a soft hand pressed against her cheek. "He gave this ring to me for safe keeping after your mother passed away and he knew that he would be closely following her into the great beyond."

She brought her hands up to feel the ring beneath her trembling fingertips, her emotions turbulent. "Why - why did you wait until now to give me this? I had tried to run away so many times, and if I had been successful - "

Her Keeper had laughed then, a soft, tinkling sound that caused the corners of her eyes to wrinkle. "Oh, you always ask the correct questions, even if they are - abrupt. Yes, I kept this from you - but only because your father asked me to wait until you received - ah. Until you were a woman. Did you even look at the ring, da'len?"

Ellana had bowed her head in shame at the words that almost tumbled past her Keeper's lips. Her Keeper was the only one who had never made mention of her attempts to receive her vallaslin. Indeed, her Keeper had merely smiled and held her close to her chest, murmuring soothing words into her ear every time she failed, reassuring her that 'the next time will be better, da'len.' Ellana loved her for it, and hearing the small disappointment in her voice filled Ellana with despair. She slowly brought the ring up into eyesight and rotated it until she spotted the engraving.

"Mythal," Ellana said quietly, her fingers running over the symbol and feeling memorizing the ridges.

"He wished you to have this when you were ready to love and be loved in return, just as your mother had given this to him to begin their courtship," Keeper Deshanna continued gently, a hand pressed on her shoulder but the implication heavy on her heart. "Yiran is a good man, despite what you think, da'len. He will be waiting for you when you return. Dareth shiral, emma da'assan. May your strikes be swift and true."

Ellana's head lowered even further in shame as she stood up, bowing deeply to her Keeper before disappearing into the night, following Mythal's light to the southern skies.

She was sure her Keeper never meant this to happen, Ellana mused as her eyes focused on the piece of her that she now gave to Cullen. Her parents were but a forgotten memory, a whisper of possibilities, a past that she couldn't have. But despite their absence she felt a sort of affection for them, a childish wish for the love that she could have received when she was but a girl. 

Now her sole connection to them - to her family, to her clan - rested gently in a shemlen's hand. She knew it was supposed to be wrong, these feelings that she harbored for her Commander. Knew that she was supposed to pray for forgiveness and strength as she cut his grip on her heart, to think of her clan and her people before she pursued her own happiness.

But when he looked at her that way, as if she was the most precious thing in the world - Dread Wolf take her, she would do anything for him. 

"Ellana," he said softly, "I can't possibly take this from you."

"I want you to have it," she replied, a hesitant smile gracing her face. "I - the symbol is of Mythal. She is our great protector, our goddess of love. I was told that my mother gave this to my father. So now I - I... give it to you, for that same purpose."

Cullen stared at her, the symbolism of ring-gifting in human culture obviously lost on her. He cleared his throat and nodded, and after a moment was finally able to form words. "Thank you. I will take care of it."

"It is not lucky, but - I hope that it will remind you of me," she said softly, looking away from him once more. If something ever happens to me. If I fall before the end.

Cullen heard the unspoken words, and closed the gap between them, bringing her close to him in a warm embrace, the ring still clasped tightly in his hand.


	42. Hawke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana speaks to Hawke.

Ellana was nervous.

Nerves were nothing new to her. The way her insides would coil around and tighten whenever she felt the arrow snap from the bowstring, heart stopping for a brief moment as it hungered for its target. The clenching of her stomach when she lost her footing on a mountainside, precariously balancing on her toes as she teetered over the edge.

Nothing compared to the tingling she now felt crawling over her skin, an army of ants that left her itching and short of breath as she entered the tavern of Skyhold. She had to speak with Sera, because though the girl was younger she was experienced, and Ellana was but a babe lost in a winter storm.

She surveyed the tavern and spotted the Champion of Kirkwall sitting by herself at the bar, nursing a drink between her hands. Ellana weaved through the crowd before sitting in the open seat next to her, delaying the inevitable. "Champion," Ellana greeted, inclining her head at the woman.

Hawke set her unnaturally blue eyes on Ellana before taking a long sip of her ale. "Inquisitor. My name is Hawke, do please use it," she replied lazily, before glancing at the contents of her mug. "Ah - this tastes much better than the swill at the Hanged Man... never thought I'd miss piss from a barrel, but here we are."

Ellana nodded and raised a hand slightly at the bartender, who brought her wine. "Hawke, then. Call me Ellana. I must admit I expected you to be with Varric."

Hawke scoffed, taking another sip of her ale. "We're not joined at the hip." She paused then, as if considering the notion. "That would be awkward. I'd have to carry him around everywhere, and he looks a bit... heavy."

Hawke was a woman with striking features, Ellana decided. Her shock of black hair was almost as dark as her own, but was cut short like a man's except for the bangs that swept across her eyes, which were as blue and luminescent as a shard of stained glass. She looked unusually tired, dark circles lining under her eyes and her face gaunt despite the easy smile that seemed a permanent fixture on her lips.

"Thank you again for helping us," Ellana said softly, bringing her wine to her lips. "You could have kept safe. Varric seemed very torn about bringing you here."

Hawke sighed noisily, rolling her eyes. "Varric worries unnecessarily. It all started with that damn fight with the Arishok; let a Qunari stab you in the torso and everyone starts treating you like a doll. It's ridiculous. Anyways, I couldn't let Corypheus undo all the stabbing I did to him without some kind of retaliation. That'd just be rude."

"So," Ellana asked, leaning closer to Hawke, her voice low. "Did you ever read Varric's book about you?"

That prompted Hawke to down the rest of her beer. "That damn book will follow me for the rest of my life. It's wonderful to know that everyone in Thedas will now know ever sorry, sordid detail of my time in Kirkwall. Fenris was not pleased when he managed to get through it, let me tell you."

"I can imagine," Ellana said dryly. "The details of your romance were -"

"Horribly detailed, intimate, and embarrassing?" Hawke filled in, staring longingly at her empty mug as if wishing would fill it up again. "Oh, yes. But either way, it's out there now, and I'll have to deal with people calling me a 'knife-ear lover' randomly on the street. Well, until I put a dagger in their throat. Usually stops the noise."

Ellana winced, looking down at her glass. "Remind me not to tell Varric anything. He gets that look in his eye when he wants to put what you're doing to paper. It's unnerving."

"At least he doesn't narrate your every move," Hawke replied, laughing at Ellana's disgusted expression. "I know. I hate it, and he keeps doing it because he knows I hate it. Blighted dwarf, I don't know why I like him at all."

Ellana smiled at her affectionate tone, taking another sip of her wine. "If you don't mind me asking - why isn't Fenris with you?"

"Unfortunately, elves with lyrium embedded in their skin are not too common in this part of Thedas," Hawke began wryly, glancing at her. "Fenris sticks out a bit. We had to split up to keep each other safe, even if I miss his brooding terribly."

Ellana drank more of her wine, looking contemplative before turning to Hawke again. "How do you deal with it?"

"It?" Hawke looked up, confused at her question. "Deal with what?"

Ellana waved a hand. "All of this - insanity. You led your own band of companions through madness, right? How did you not... lose it?"

Hawke shrugged. "Generally, I stab things until they get better. When that doesn't work, I try to be funny. When that doesn't work, I go back to stabbing. It's a bit of an endless cycle, really, but it tends to work... eventually."

Ellana pursed her lips, noting Hawke's evasiveness. "I suppose that's fair. If only my problems could just be filled with arrows."

"I don't envy you," Hawke admitted, eyes far off into the distance. "I could barely keep my city together. You? You have all of Thedas watching your every move, and now Corypheus very inconveniently wants to do that whole become a god thing." Hawke turned to Ellana. "All I can say is - good luck. I leave this evening for the Western Approach. Do try to not make us wait - my contact can be a bit tetchy. It's a Warden thing, impatient lot they are."

Hawke pushed herself up from her stool and walked out of the tavern, leaving Ellana to contemplate her words. She sat and nursed her drink for a while before sighing and standing up, beginning the climb up the stairs to Sera's room. 

It was going to be an awkward conversation.


	43. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana confesses a secret to Cullen.

Cullen stood in the middle of the practice ring in Skyhold, waiting for Ellana to show. The parade of messengers and war reports had finally calmed down for the day, and the sun sank into the mountains in a patchwork of oranges and reds behind him, warming his armor. 

The influx of Orlesian and Ferelden dignitaries in the recent months caused an immediate ceasing of their daily practices, and he felt a bit silly at how much he looked forward to continuing practice with her. He felt his fingers itch to wield a sword in its proper capacity instead of just resting heavily at his hip; to guide her through the steps of becoming more proficient at swordplay. To throw her to the ground as she growled at him and her eyes flashed, her skin flushing with exertion as her chest heaved against her blouse...

He shook his head vigorously at the last thought, trying to purge the it from his mind. It was becoming harder and harder to resist her, he thought with a bit of chagrin; and if he actually thought about it, he still had no idea why he was waiting, what further signal that she could possibly give him that she was ready. But he was a stubborn man, with stubborn convictions, and he would wait until he knew for certain that she would -

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard footsteps and loud, off-key singing, and he looked up, confused. He knew that voice, and he cringed when his guess was right. Ellana and Sera walked in his direction, Sera singing a bawdy tavern song at the top of her lungs and their arms linked together as they strolled through the courtyard. They finally focused on him, and as Ellana smiled and waved happily and Sera grinned at him almost menacingly, he had to clamp down the urge to immediately turn around and flee in the opposite direction.

He was the commander of the Inquisition, a survivor of the Fifth Blight. He had faced hordes of demons as they poured from abominations, slaying the mages that he had sworn to protect. He watched Kirkwall crumble at his feet as the apostate set the Chantry aflame.

He would not run craven from girls half his size. He would not.

"Cullen," Ellana called to him, her words slightly slurred. "Sera had the greatest idea, ever."

Oh, blessed Maker. They were drunk.

He sighed as he looked up, sending a quick prayer to the skies. The girls finally made it to him, and Ellana separated from Sera to stumble into Cullen, smiling up at him and letting out a small 'oof' as she ran into him. Her hands came up to his sides and clung to him, her breath scented with wine.

"Cullen," Ellana mumbled into his mantle, blinking until the world stopped spinning at her quick movement. "We were supposed to practice, but I had a much, much better idea."

He gently pulled her off of him and held her shoulders as she found her balance. "What?"

"A much better idea! Involving... the trebuchets." Ellana nodded at him, before she smiled at him suddenly. "And flying."

Cullen stared down at her, his voice flat. "No."

"You didn't even listen to what I was going to say!" she muttered, turning her head to Sera, shouting back to her. "I can't convince him!"

"Try harder!" Sera shouted back, and Cullen sighed, not understanding why they were yelling when they were standing next to each other. "Suck his knob if you have to!"

Sera's guffawing laugh turned hysterical when she caught Cullen's expression, his eyes wide and his face a deep red as he sputtered in shock. Ellana looked dazed and confused, squinting at his expression before looking to Sera, almost pouting at being left out.

"Do what?" She asked innocently in her confusion, tilting her head at her younger friend. "His door has a handle."

Ellana's words only caused Sera to laugh even harder, and she bent over to slap her knees, snorting. "You don't - oh, you Dalish don't know shite, do you? No wonder you asked me for help - you don't have any idea, do you, your most honorable ladybits?"

Now Ellana's brows furrowed and she frowned, trying to kick dirt in Sera's direction but, in her stupor, only managing to stumble back into Cullen's protective embrace. "You're a - a big jerk! Let's go, Cullen. Her idea wasn't that good anyway."

"R-Right," Cullen muttered, steering her away from the laughing Sera who was now rolling on the ground, trying to remove the image she had conjured in his mind. "You should - go to bed."

Ellana giggled, leaning against him as he began to move them towards the steps. "Only if you join me, Commander."

He sighed again, and once more asked for mercy from the Maker. "Not tonight, Ellana."

"You're upset," Ellana began, clinging onto his arm as they slowly climbed up the steps, her feet unsteady. "I get it. I didn't forget, I just - I'm just a big coward."

Cullen looked down at her, frowning. "You're far from that."

"I am, I am!" She argued, smacking his arm lightly. "A big, stupid coward. I was going to - ask you. So I asked Sera what to do, and she said I needed liquid courage, and then... I drank too much. M'sorry," she slurred, losing her energy from her confession.

"Ask me?" Cullen blinked, and he stopped at the stop of the steps, moving her in front of him. "Ask me what, Ellana?"

Her eyes roamed everywhere but his own. Her face now flushed even more, and he knew it wasn't from the drink. "I - I want to - I want you! I want you. There, now I said it."

He knew what she meant, but he couldn't help it. "You have me, Ellana," he said softly, bringing a hand to her cheek. She moved it away, shaking her head as she stepped up to him, her eyes closed tightly shut.

"Don't make me - I want you. As a - in a... like... how a woman wants a man. Oh, Creators, now I've said it out loud." She opened one eye slowly, looking up to make sure he was still there before opening the other one. "And you're still standing here? You didn't run away screaming?"

He couldn't help but laugh awkwardly as he brought a hand to his neck. "I - um... Maker's breath, why is this so - " 

He suddenly hooked a hand behind her neck and on her lower back, leaning into her as he kissed her fiercely, his mouth hot on her own. When they separated, she stared at him, her eyes wide and her mouth parted slightly as their breath intermingled in the air.

"Don't - you cannot think I do not want you," he finally answered, gazing into her eyes. "I do - I want... everything."

"Then - " Ellana began, her expression confused, "why do you - not... ah... take me?"

Cullen looked away, his face flushing before he looked back at her sheepishly. "I - do not take these things lightly. I want - there are... you are - " He groaned, unable to place his feelings into words. "Not like this. Not with drink involved."

She blinked slowly before she comprehended what he was telling her. "So you mean... later? Someday? You do..?"

He smiled at her then, relieved that she didn't seem angry, and kissed her cheek. "Yes."

She sighed heavily, lowering her head as she leaned against his chest. "Okay. But - I'm leaving tomorrow. To go meet Hawke in the Western Approach."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, her fingers cold from the night air. "I will await your return."

She stood on her toes and kissed his jaw, smiling shyly at him. "Good. But, um - I... actually do need help back, 'cause the ground keeps tripping me."

He picked her up in response, laughing at the way she squealed as he carried her back to her room.


	44. Adamant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition makes an assault on Adamant.

When Ellana learned what had happened in the ritual tower in the Western Approach, she took no time sending back word that the Inquisition would have to strike Adamant Fortress. Cullen and Josephine worked tirelessly to gather the forces necessary to mount the assault, and Leliana's ravens took to the skies in numbers uncountable. When Ellana returned to Skyhold, she refused to rest even for a day before leaving once again.

"The fate of Thedas rests in my hands, Cullen," she said to him when he tried to convince her to delay, her eyes alight with determination. "I will rest when we stop Corypheus from corrupting the Wardens any further."

So he had respected her wishes, and they left in earnest, the mounts and sappers traveling to Adamant Fortress with haste.

The gates of Adamant burst open in a shower of wooden splinters as the battering struck violently one last time, and Ellana let an arrow fly through the cracks, striking a Grey Warden in the chest. Some of the Inquisition forces moved in and covered her advance, and the remaining Grey Wardens fell back, scrambling into the deeper parts of the fortress.

Ellana notched another arrow and slipped inside the gates, glancing around before relaxing slightly. Cullen appeared next to her, and she turned to him halfway, her gaze shuttered.

"All right, Inquisitor," Cullen said to her, keeping his mask of commander securely in place so his heart wouldn't leap out of his chest. He gripped his sword tighter in his hand. She is capable. She can do this. "You have your way in; best make use of it. We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can."

"I'll be fine," Ellana answered, her eyes refusing to meet his. "Just keep the men safe!"

"We'll do what we can, Inquisitor," Cullen replied, glancing at the demons gathering on the walls. His free hand grabbed her arm and she looked up to him finally, a crooked smile on her lips. He stared at her, his eyes darting across her face, before he nodded, letting her go. "Maker guide you, Inquisitor."

She lowered her gaze once more. "And the Creators mark your steps, Commander."

He watched her raise her bow once again and stalk into the fortress, her companions following close behind her. He pulled his shield from his back, blocking stray arrows as he made his way back to command the front lines.

When Corypheus' dragon shrieked and fell from the sky, Cullen looked up in terrified awe at the massive creature tumbling to the ground. Then, he watched as the fortress began to crumble in its wake, figures falling from the destruction. Even in the distance, he could see the sickly green of Ellana's mark sparking in her hand, and his heart rose to his throat as all he could do was stare as she continued to free fall.

"No," he spoke, unthinking as his eyes widened, horrified at what filled his vision. "No, no, no - "

Then a huge rift rent the air in a bright flash of green, and he covered his eyes with a hand. A wave of sound washed over the fortress as the rift blinked out of sight, and he lowered his hand, his face grim. The chant fell from his lips, unbidden.

"The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,  
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword..."

\--

She was falling.

She closed her eyes as she crashed toward the ground, hysterical laughter bubbling in her throat. A vision of Cullen flashed in her mind, his hands grasping her hips as he stared down at her, scolding her for standing precariously on the top of the mage tower in Skyhold.

She hoped he didn't see her fall to her death.

But then - she stopped in mid-air, and she opened her eyes, her surroundings now a swirling realm of rock and bone. She took a deep breath, and the air was thick and tasted of despair, and she reached a hand out to try to touch the ground.

Suddenly, she fell onto her back, and she grunted, dazed, before scrambling to her feet, feeling a strange sense of deja vu. She looked around and saw no one; only the Black City stood at a distance, a blackened view on the horizon.

Wasn't she here with... people?

She clutched her head as pain exploded inside of it, and she screamed, falling back against a rock. Suddenly, the pain went away, and she looked up.

Cullen stood in front of her, a draught of lyrium clasped tightly in his hand.

"Ellana," he said slowly, staring at the draught in his hand. "Why did you let me stop? I needed this."

"Cullen?" Ellana said incredulously. "But you - how are you here?"

He took a step towards her and stumbled to his knees, a blossom of red spreading across his chest. "I needed this, Ellana," he whispered, and when he slumped over she saw the blade run through his back.

"No!" Ellana screamed, catching him before he fully collapsed on the ground. She held him close to her, her hands pressed into the wound, tears pricking her eyes.

"I needed this," he whispered in her ear, a broken record, and she placed her head against his mantle, tears falling down her face. "I couldn't - fight without it."

Her hands were warm and wet, and she shuddered as she realized it was his blood on her hands. "Cullen, you can't - stupid, stupid templar! You're can't die on me!"

He only kept muttering the same words over and over, a wretched chant that filled her ears; and then suddenly, he stopped, his body cold, and she felt her heart clench with despair. 

Her head began to ache once more, and she screamed in pain and anguish, clutching Cullen close to her. The world swirled around her in a flash of color; she was now in Cullen's office in Skyhold. He stood at the window, staring at something outside, his fingers resting on the pommel of his sword. She smiled at the image, her heart lifting as she walked to him.

"Hello, Cullen" She said brightly, walking around his desk and to him.

She felt her blood freeze when he looked at her, his eyes distant. "Ellana? Are you real?"

Her heart dropped, and tears pricked her eyes. Another bad day. "I am real." 

"Oh, Maker," he breathed, shaking his head. "Are you, really? It's getting so hard to tell. He stared at his hand, frowning at his gauntlet. "My dreams - Ellana!"

He grabbed her and pulled her to the ground, his sword already in his hand. He spoke lowly to her, his eyes fixed on something over her shoulder. "Be very still. There are abominations behind you."

She bit her lip and bowed her head, refusing to let the tears gathering in her eyes fall. It was happening more and more often. Would he even be there tomorrow?

Suddenly, the world swirled once again, and Cullen held her against her bedroom wall, his blade precariously close to her throat.

"Inquisitor," he said smoothly, his eyes sharp and focused on her. "I am sorry that it came to this."

"What are you doing," Ellana whispered, her eyes wide. "Why are you doing this?"

He brought a hand to her face with his free hand, wiping the tears from her face. "I love you, Ellana. But my duty comes before you."

Tears? When did she start crying?

"You - you love me?" Ellana parroted back dumbly, before her eyes narrowed. "You don't do this to people you love, Cullen!"

"Corypheus needs the mark - and since you cannot give it, you must die," he continued, ignoring her words. His blade pressed further and further into her neck, and she closed her eyes, shaking while waiting for the inevitable.

Suddenly, the pressure disappeared, and she opened her eyes. Solas had replaced Cullen, grabbing her blood-stained hands. "Ellana. This is only a nightmare. Wake up!"

She gasped as she opened her eyes, sitting up to see the aspect of the Nightmare screech as Solas broke its hold on her. 

"Welcome back, Inquisitor," Solas said formally, kneeling at her side. She looked up to see Dorian holding a protective barrier around them, his face weary at the drain on his magic. 

How long had she been dreaming, if he looked that tired? 

Suddenly, all of her memories came back to her - how the fight began, and how suddenly she fell asleep at her feet, the aspect whispering something into her ears.

How the nightmares came to her one by one, an endless parade of terrible possibilities that caused bile to rise up to her throat as she thought of them; but suddenly, her fears gave way to anger, and she staggered up, walking past Dorian and Solas and plucking an arrow from her quiver. She pulled the bowstring back and let the arrow fly. It whizzed past Cole's head and between Hawke's daggers as it plunged into the aspect.

Ellana continued to shoot into the aspect far after it was defeated, screaming in a wordless rage; as she stepped closer to it, she dropped her bow and drew her sword, hacking at the corpse mindlessly.

"Ellana!" Hawke screamed, grabbing her arm before she swung downwards once more. Ellana looked up and snarled, before noticing that the rest of the group had already begun to run for the rift.

Ellana sheathed her sword and picked up her bow before running with Hawke and Stroud, her stomach dropping as the Nightmare moved to block their path.

\--

When she finally stepped out of the Fade and closed the rift behind her, the demons screamed as they disappeared into darkness. She turned her eyes to the Wardens, her eyes blazing in anger.

"Warden Stroud is dead, thanks to all of you," Ellana ranted, her fingers trembling as she tried to keep herself together. "He alone stood against Clarel's madness. If not for him, you'd be dead - or a slaves to the servant of the Blight." She pointed an accusatory finger at them. "And you repaid him by branding him a traitor! "

She stalked away from everyone, her face grim. Dorian fell into step with her, looking down at her taut shoulders and frowned. "Ellana - "

"No," Ellana said stiffly, her voice strained. "Do not speak to me. I cannot..."

Dorian stared at her, alarmed at her uncharacteristic terseness. He leaned on his staff, his brow furrowed in worry as she marched ahead.

Cullen was speaking with a group of soldiers at the gate, barking orders. "You! Take a small group along with some wardens to ensure there are no more demons lurking about." He turned to another soldier next to him. "We need to gather the dead and make a pyre."

The soldiers nodded and scrambled to follow his orders, and Cullen looked up to see Ellana walking towards him with Dorian trailing slightly behind her, his face wary. "Inquisitor!" Cullen called out, trying not to rush to her side. "You are well?"

When she looked at him, though, her eyes were wild, and she walked past him without saying a word. Dorian grimaced and shook his head at Cullen, opening his mouth for a moment before snapping it shut, following Ellana out of the ruined gates of the fortress.

Cullen stared at her back as she left, confusion swarming his thoughts as a chill settled inside his bones despite the desert heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the Nightmare was built up a bit too much for what we dealt with in the Fade... little spider fears really shouldn't be the only thing you face with a demon that eats the fears of every single person as they sleep.
> 
> Also - a fun thought. If you fall asleep while physically in the Fade, can you still dream? I'm pretending you can.


	45. Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole speaks.

Ellana leaned against the balcony of her quarters, staring out into the mountains as she toyed with Cullen's coin between her fingertips. The night was calm and silent, a stark contrast to the swirling of her thoughts as she processed the events at Adamant.

Cole flittered in next to her, and she tensed for a moment before she glanced over and tried to smile. "Good evening, Cole," she greeted, her fingers still playing with the coin.

"Hello." He sat on the banister, looking out, his hat obscuring his face. "You are usually so quiet, but now you're crying out."

Ellana looked embarrassed, her fingers stopping their movement as she clenched her hands. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

"You worry about him, about all of us - fingers wipe the sweat off of his brow as he calls out, Creators, I cannot help him." Cole looked at her. "You only think of hurts that aren't your own. Everyone asking, but not always with words."

She let out a breath, shaky as she remembered. "I just want to help as much as I can. You know this."

"I like it when we help people," Cole agreed, swinging his legs, "but I also like it when you are happy. He wants you to be happy too, wants to help, but you wont let him. Why wont you let him?"

"Are you scolding me, Cole?" She sighed and turned, her elbows placed firmly on the balcony. "It's complicated."

"You need to tell him - want to tell him. No, no, no - anything but this, I can endure anything but - eyes unseeing, fingers grasped on a draught of lyrium, a sword run through his heart. Try to stop the bleeding but it just wont stop, until it does and he is cold, so very cold underneath your hands." Cole shifted as he let the feelings escape his grasp. "He can't see why you're so distant, it hurts him."

"I'm still the Inquisitor, Cole," she said bitterly, "and he is still - I am still his leader. I cannot be weak, and he makes me - I must do what is best for the Inquisition."

Cole looked with her into the fog of the mountains before speaking again. "If you wont let me help you, I will find help for you."

She spun around at him, a protest already forming on her lips, but he was already gone.

\--

"The Nightmare spoke to her," Cole appeared on his desk, sitting cross-legged.

Cullen looked up, startled, scrambling up and unsheathing his sword to point it at the boy.

"I made you forget, so that I could help; but now I can't," Cole began, adjusting his hat calmly despite Cullen's violent reaction. "Her mark is usually so bright that it is hard to see her, but now she is breaking, fraying at the seams."

"You're the spirit," Cullen replied slowly, eyeing him carefully, trying to shake off the goosebumps forming on his skin.

"Yes," Cole answered. "You are the templar. I want to help. She needs you. She's crying out but she wont let me help her. She is so selfless it makes her selfish, sometimes."

"Where is she?" He asked, sheathing his sword. Cullen was unable to decipher what Cole was trying to say but understood that Ellana needed him.

"Where she needs you, and you help her," Cole replied cryptically before disappearing as abruptly as he arrived.

Cullen stared at the space where the boy sat before leaving his office, mindlessly walking through the halls of Skyhold. He found himself passing through Josephine's office, nodding politely at her as he walked by. When he entered the hall to the war room, the gaping hole in the wall brought in a chill wind, and he looked up at the form in front of it.

"Ellana?" He called out, and she turned quickly, eyes wide. 

"Commander." Her voice was wrapped in some strange noise, as if -

"Are you - crying? Ellana, what's wrong?"

She used her sleeve to dry her face. "W-what? No! The wind is making me tear up, is all. I was just about to get back to work, and I got distracted. Please excuse me, Commander."

He walked up to her and took her hands as she tried to walk away, gazing into her eyes, his mouth set into a firm line. She deflated before looking away, guilt marring her features. "I - in the fade, the demon spoke to me. Said things."

He caressed her hands softly, a comforting hum rising in the back of his throat. "What did it say?"

Her eyes shifted to him. "That - everything I've ever feared would come to pass. I don't - can't repeat it. Now now. It's too fresh. I can't - I can't do this, I'm not strong enough to watch you - " she choked on some emotion, her fingers clutching his tightly.

He kissed her sweetly, wiping the tears from her cheeks, and pressed his forehead to hers, sighing. "Demons are not seers, Ellana. Saying doesn't make it true. I know this from experience."

She clenched her eyes shut and tried to still her thudding heart, shuddering. "It wasn't just words. Images, feelings, your blood staining my hands, my clothes as I tried to make the bleeding stop. So much blood, so much..."

He took her hand and pressed it against the pulse on his neck, and she paused, feeling it thrum beneath her fingertips and opening her eyes. "I'm alive, Ellana," he whispered to her, his fingers tightening on her wrist. "I cannot - do not make me dead before I am."

She searched his face, her eyes still holding that wild look, before she crushed her lips to his. He pulled her close, his hands grabbing her hips as he deepened the kiss, desperately wishing to take the hurt away.

She pulled away from him suddenly, looking down at her feet. "I - forgive me, Cullen. I need - please give me some time. I can still see..."

He could feel his heart wrenching, but he nodded. "Of course. You know where to find me." He cupped her cheek one more time before steeling himself and turning around, leaving Ellana alone in the hallway as she stared into the distance.


	46. Cassandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra speaks to Ellana.

The Fallow Mire was a completely dreadful place, Ellana decided as the rain poured down relentlessly and endlessly. The weather never changed; it was always a torrential rainstorm with a side of death as the clouds swirled above, angrily casting bolts of lightning onto the ground. The place was full of walking corpses, mud, and the smell of rot - and right now, it was perfect, because if she felt like shit, she might as well be mucking about the ass-end of Thedas.

Her party had finally settled for the night after she couldn't handle Dorian's continuous whining about the weather conditions.

"It's been like this all week," Ellana said tersely, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation.

"Yes, and I am sick of it!" Dorian hissed, making a noise of disgust as he flicked mud off of his clothes. "We've been here for a week, Ellana! If I see another lightning bolt nearly strike me dead today, I will send one up yours!"

The raindrops hit her tent, a gentle sound that would have usually sent her to sleep if it weren't for the random bursts of lightning that made her jump out of her skin. She had to agree with Dorian on that point - the lightning was not pleasant.

She tossed and turned in her cot before she gave up and stood, walking over to the opening to peek out and see if anyone was up. When she saw no one, she stepped out into the rain in only her night clothes; the rain washed over her, soaking her clothes and chilling her skin. Her upturned face caught droplets on her cheeks and in her eyelashes, and she closed her eyes, trying to feel something -

Flashes of the images that the Nightmare had conjured flew up into her vision, and she grimaced, opening her eyes to perish the images from her mind.

"I do not recommend sitting out here for long." Cassandra stood next to her, glancing around the area for more walking dead before speaking. "You are grieving, but you shouldn't be."

Ellana looked up at the Seeker, confused. "What are you - "

"I knew a mage, once," Cassandra interrupted, her eyes having a far away look. "His name was Regalyan D'Marcall, and he once told me - it does not matter what he said. He was my first love - my only love. He... died, at the Conclave."

"I'm sorry, Cassandra," Ellana whispered, the pain in Cassandra's voice twisting her heart as she felt her grief. "I didn't know."

Cassandra shook her head. "I do not tell you for your sympathy, but to remind you - Cullen is not dead. Our lives had separated us, but I always had comfort in the fact that Regalyan lived. Now, I wish I had done more, said more."

Ellana stiffened at her words. "Dorian," she spat out, the name bitter on her tongue.

"He may have told me the cause of your distress, but only because I asked." Cassandra crossed her arms, staring down at her friend. "I am not blind, Ellana, nor are the rest of us. You could not have left Skyhold any faster than you did after your journey to the Fade. You are suffering. It is obvious in your every move."

"Aren't we all suffering?" Ellana deflected, her hands finding grass and pulling it out of the muddy ground. "There's a big, bad, ancient darkspawn trying to end the world."

Cassandra's gloved hand pressed down on her shoulder, and Ellana sighed, unable to argue further. "We have a saying in Nevarra," Cassandra began, removing her hand almost as quickly as it was placed. "'It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.' I thought it stupid as a child, but now... I carry my pain, but also fond memories. I would not trade them for anything. If you lost Cullen tomorrow - would you regret hiding from him like this?"

Cassandra left her then, and as Ellana looked up at the murky sky, the angry clouds swirling and hiding the light of the sun - she knew.


	47. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen shows his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned; I will be utilizing the rating now and henceforth.

Ellana leaned against the wall of his office, watching him quietly. She had managed to avoid Cullen for weeks by running off to the Fallow Mire, and the abject terror brought by images the Nightmare planted in her mind gave way to the wisdom of Cassandra's words and the pain of missing his company. She had slipped in unnoticed as he concentrated on directing the soldiers that had gathered around him. He looked serious and imposing as he leaned on his desk, glancing down at the papers spread out on it, and she had no idea how she managed to stay away for so long.

"Rylen's men will monitor the situation," he began, taking a report from a soldier and glancing down at it.

"Yes ser. We'll begin preparations at once," one of them answered.

"In the meantime, we will send soldiers to - " He caught her in the corner of his eye and he paused, the smile breaking out on his face while he passed the report back causing her heart to flutter, " ... assist, with the relief effort."

He turned back to his charges, his face serious again. "That will be all."

"Ser!" The soldier saluted and Cullen ushered them out, closing the door behind them. 

He leaned against the wood, sighing. "There's always something more, isn't there?"

"Long day?" Ellana asked softly, examining him closely. She wanted to say something, anything to explain, but her mouth refused to form the words that needed to be said.

"I shouldn't complain," he replied, standing up and moving to the center of the room. "The war wont last forever. When it started, I hadn't considered much beyond our survival. But things are different now."

He paused, and she stood up from the wall, walking towards him. "What do you mean?"

"I find myself wondering what will happen after. When this is over, I won't want to move on... not from you." He lifted a hand to her cheek and smiled, before nervously turning away and walking up to his desk. "But - I don't know what you... that is, if you, ah -"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, maneuvering herself between him and the desk, her heart racing. "Cullen," she began, searching his face, her eyes wide with surprise. "You still - after all of this? You... want me? I haven't even apologized for - for..." 

"You of all people should know that the terrors of demons are nothing new to me. I understood - understand, why you needed to avoid me." A hand rose to her cheek and he smiled ruefully. "The question is if you still want me," he said softly, moving closer to her. "If you - I don't want to wait any longer, Ellana. The dangers you face - I want... " 

She leaned back slightly, her elbow hitting an empty bottle on the desk. She looked down with a gasp when she heard it shatter, and then up to Cullen, an apology on the tip of her tongue. He simply stared at her for a moment before he smirked and pushed everything off of the desk.

"Cullen -" she began, but he had already gently moved her to lay on the desk as he crawled on top of her. She sighed, and he kissed her softly before pulling back, hesitant.

"Is this -" 

"If you stop, I will never forgive you," she muttered, pulling him back down to kiss him thoroughly, trying to make up for lost time. He complied without complaint, hungrily meeting her mouth with his. His hands soon began to roam, and reached for the buttons on her blouse. She stilled, her cheeks flushed. 

He sat up and stared down at her, his brow furrowed in concern. "Is something wrong?"

She flushed even further, the tips of her ears burning red. "No! I don't want you to stop but - I... um... you know- Oh, Creators - I've never done this - it? - before."

He gaped at her. "But you -"

"What is it you Fereldens say? All bark, no bite?" She explained nervously, looking away from him. "I, uh - you know, being a pariah kind of keeps all the boys away. My father would've never had to worry... if he wasn't, you know, dead."

His face softened and he pressed his fingers to her cheek, hooking his thumb under her chin and turning her to face him. "Ellana," he said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I will not take - not on a desk. You deserve more."

"What's wrong with the desk? It's a good desk. Sturdy." She fidgeted, looking uncomfortable. "I mean, we don't need to make a big deal-"

"Ellana." He interrupted her sternly, bending forward, his hands splayed on the desk on either side of her. He kissed her fiercely, his tongue slipping into her mouth to taste, and when she moaned softly, he pulled back as if burned. "Come on," he murmured softly, "before I can't help myself."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the desk, ushering her up the ladder before him. When they finally reached the top, he slowly removed his gauntlets, his boots, and then the rest of his armor, leaving him in only his breeches. She had to catch a breath at the sight of him, carefully removing his armor as he stared at her, his eyes dark with want.

Then he walked up to her and kissed her again, guiding her backwards. Her calves finally hit the edge of the mattress and she stumbled, falling into the bed with him. He placed his hands on her blouse again, waiting, and she nodded, the flush returning with a vengeance. He slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing pale skin and banded breasts. He lowered his lips to her clavicle, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along her skin, up towards her neck.

She sighed, wrapping her arms around him, squirming as he reached up to the tips of her ears. She yelped at the strange sensation, biting softly into his shoulder at the feeling of his mouth on sensitive skin.

"Andraste preserve me," he muttered, shuddering as he felt her teeth sink into his skin. He lifted a hand to her breast, and almost growled when she moaned in approval. He tugged at the material wrapped around her chest and she complied, sitting up and unwrapping it, the cloth falling away. He quickly pushed her back down and took a nipple into his mouth, his blood heating as he heard her cry out and she arched her back, pressing herself flush into him. He paid careful attention to both of her breasts, feeling a rush as she grabbed onto his hair, squirming underneath him.

He moved back up to kiss her, and she looked up at him meaningfully, her hands on the hem of her pants. He helped her to remove her boots and then pulled them down, but pushed her hand away when she moved to help him out of his.

"Not yet," he breathed, crawling on top of her again, touching her mound through her underwear. She looked at him, eyes wide as his hand wandered down, the cloth already wet. He looked at her, a smug smile on his face before it morphed into something more gentle, and he kissed her, tugging the garment down her legs and tossing it behind him. 

She was now naked in front of him, and he marveled at her. "Maker," he breathed. "You're so- "

Her body looked even more delicate out of clothes, and he spread his fingers about her waist, marveling at how large they appeared against her. His eyes trailed up her form to her flushed face, but instead of the nervousness he expected, her bright blue eyes were now lidded, gazing at him with desire. His own body reacted, but he ignored it for now, moving his hand down, down...

She gasped, closing her eyes at the new feeling. She had touched herself before, but this - her own fingers felt small and insignificant compared to his large, calloused hands. He gently rubbed soft circles into the bud between her thighs, and she raised herself to meet him, moaning. Soon, she felt a soft stirring that rose up from her toes and to her navel, and she couldn't help herself now - she felt her lips form words that she could barely understand in her fervor, the feeling bringing her close to breaking.

"Faster!" She pleaded, moving her hips to follow his motion. Slowly, he increased his speed, and she felt her muscles contract, a pleasure that felt sweeter from his fingertips.

"Ah- Cullen!" She choked out, clinging to his bed sheets. He kissed her again, waiting for her to come down from her high, and then slowly pressed against her opening with a finger, still wet with her. She opened her legs wider and winced slightly as he pushed into her, the feeling new and sharp. 

He hissed at how tight she felt around his fingers, and waited until she looked more comfortable before slipping another inside, and then another. She writhed and he slowly slid in and out, his fingers curled, until she was mewling. 

"Cullen," she moaned again. "Please - I need- "

He didn't need to be asked twice. He quickly divested himself of his own pants and flipped them around, Ellana now hovering over his hips.

"Cullen? What's..." She asked softly, unsure.

He leaned up on his forearms and kissed her. "It - may still hurt. You should..."

She blinked before smiling hesitantly, understanding that he wanted her to have all of the control. She scooted back and gently took him into her hand, noting the soft grunt that fell from his lips. His hands found themselves resting on her hips as she took a deep breath, slowly sinking onto him, wincing as it pinched. Cullen threw his head back, eyes closed, trying not to explode into the incredible warmth that now surrounded him as he dug his fingers into her soft skin.

They both sighed in relief when she finally took him completely inside her. She slowly raised and lowered herself on him with the help of his hands, trying not to hiss as the ache that he caused inside of her. But then the ache gave way to something else entirely - a fullness that she couldn't explain as she felt herself move around him. She opened her eyes and saw him gazing at her with a feeling akin to awe, his hands slowly moving from her hips to her buttocks, and he squeezed, a strangled moan escaping her throat. He flipped her over and now hovered over her, lowering his face to kiss her sensually as he entered her once more. She could feel a pressure gathering inside of her as he took and gave her pleasure, and she pulled him closer to her, wrapping her legs around him to feel his warmth on her skin. When he felt himself nearing his end, he gently guided her legs away from his torso, opening her to him so that he could reach down and caress her as he slid in and out of her.

She cried out, her legs shaking as she tightened around him. "C-Cullen!"

"Ellana!" He shuddered as he felt his release, unable to hold on while she spasmed around him, finally collapsing onto the bed and pulling her close to him. They both breathed heavily, covered in their exertion, and Ellana sighed contentedly, curling into his side.

"Cullen?" Ellana mumbled sleepily, resting her head on his chest.

"Mm?" He replied, relishing her closeness to him after not seeing her for so long.

"Let's not wait so long to do that again," she muttered, wiggling into the bed until she felt comfortable and nuzzling into him.

Cullen laughed warmly, his fingertips ghosting around her bare skin, overjoyed at her reaction. "As you wish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah!!! It finally happened! It only took forty chapters... :D


	48. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana discovers she was not dreaming.

Ellana woke to the sun already shining through the open ceiling, grumbling at the intrusion to her sleep and snuggling further into the warmth enveloping her. She blinked, and looked down to find Cullen's hand wrapped around her waist and their bodies flush together. A huge grin overtook her face to find herself tangled with him, relieved that she didn't just dream the night before.

She tried to gently lift his hand and giggled when he mumbled in his sleep and grabbed her again, trapping her in his arms. She gave up her attempts to escape and let him hold her, his measured breaths lulling her back into sleep again.

When Ellana woke up the second time, it was nearly noon, and she groaned. She managed to wriggle out of his grasp this time, and glanced at him over her shoulder and paused.

No one could deny that Cullen was a handsome man; however, during his waking hours, he held as much weight and pressure on his shoulders as she did. As a consequence, she would usually find him with a furrowed brow and a serious expression as he dealt with his duties. But now, his sleep not plagued by nightmares and his brow relaxed, the lines of his face softened and nearly disappeared - and he nearly made her have to catch her breath. She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before making to stand up and find her clothes.

She sat back down and groaned, cursing under her breath. Creators, was she sore. She tried again, this time getting up and waddling around the room, picking up her clothes before making her way back to the bed, sighing in relief when she sat back down and began to get dressed.

She was lacing up her boots when Cullen began to thrash in his sleep.

"Leave me," he muttered angrily, his breath ragged. "Leave me!"

He woke up with a start, and Ellana leaned into him, her face worried. "Bad dream?"

Cullen took in another deep breath. "They always are. Without lyrium, they're even worse." He glanced up and saw her distress, sitting up and placing a hand on her cheek. "I didn't mean to worry you."

She managed a smile, trying to shake off her own nightmares, and lifted her own hand to his cheek. "Despite the dreams, is it still a good morning?" Ellana sounded as confident as she usually did - but the underlying question still remained, and she waited with baited breath.

Her heart fluttered when he laughed, a smile warming his face. "It's perfect."

She brought her forehead to his own and nuzzled him, and he sighed in content. "You are... I have never felt anything like this."

"Ma'arlath - ma emma sa'lath," she whispered carefully to him, trying not to think too much about the implications of what they had done or what she just said. At his puzzled expression, she switched to the common tongue. "It means - or, I want to say - I love you."

Cullen's face lit up at her words, his smile growing even wider. "I love you, too."

Ellana leaned in and he took her mouth in a searing kiss, his stomach untwisting at her words in a way he didn't know it was knotted before. He grabbed her and pulled her back into the bed, laughing as she squealed about her boots dirtying his sheets. 

He ran his hand through the strands of her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. "How are you feeling? Are you - hurting?" At her confused expression, he quickly explained himself. "I mean - um - physically."

She looked bemused at his question, her eyes glinting mischievously. "I am quite sure I wont be able to walk straight for some time."

He winced, pressing another kiss to her lips in apology. She laughed at his expression, bringing a hand to his cheek. "Cullen, I would rather bear this pain than to never have you at all." She looked uncomfortable as soon as the words left her mouth, and she bit her lip, sitting upright on the bed. He looked up at her, considering, and drew himself up as well, bringing her into an embrace.

"I - I need to apologize, Cullen," Ellana began, her whispers barely reaching his ears. "I shouldn't have - I need to be stronger."

He gripped her tighter, shaking his head. "Ellana - if you were any stronger, you would be made of steel. I told you I - there is no need to apologize. I... was no better after my ordeal. Perhaps even worse." He released her to look into her eyes, his hands wrapping around her own. "I - know how these things will linger, how they can haunt your waking moments. I know I was the subject, but - "

She kissed him then, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pressed into him, her mouth greedily taking his own. When they broke for air, she smiled shakily at him. "Let's just keep doing that until it gets better."

Cullen laughed softly, knowing that she was not ready to speak on the subject right now. "If you insist, my lady."

When Cullen finally managed to get to his desk, the reports had already piled up beyond imagining; but he only smiled wistfully as he picked up a missive, his mind distracted by the luck that the Maker had finally granted him.


	49. Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana is cornered.

The sun was setting in Skyhold as Ellana finally returned from searching Emprise Du Lion, the red templar letters carefully placed into her pack. Stable hands quickly ran towards them to take their mounts away, and Varric, Solas, and Iron Bull dismounted and handed their horses off. She waved off her own stable hand, though, dismounting her hart wearily and walking it back to the stables. Before she could feed and brush her hart, though, Master Dennet hailed her, taking the reins from her hand.

"You're about to fall over, Inquisitor," he grumbled, waving her away when she objected. "I'll take care of your girl, don't worry."

"Thank you, Master Dennet," Ellana answered, giving him a small curtsy. He nodded at her before walking the hart back to the pen, talking to it softly on the way. Ellana turned on her heel and strolled through the courtyard into the main hall, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she took the first right to Solas' chamber. She glanced around, noticing that he had not made his way back to his room, and breathed a sigh of relief. Solas had taken to making sly statements about her constant coming-and-goings to Cullen's office, and she didn't want to add another arrow to his quiver.

She opened the door to the walkway and found herself pressed against the stone, strong hands gripping her wrists. She struggled before she looked up and had her vision filled with Cullen. He immediately claimed her mouth with his own, his hands moving from her wrists to cup her face.

"Hello to you as well," she said breathlessly as they parted, staring up at him. He didn't reply but to press his lips against the soft skin of her neck, biting gently.

"Ellana," he rumbled, and she shivered despite herself. "I found myself - thinking of you. And now you are here."

A smirk twisted her lips, and she brought up her arms to wrap loosely around his neck, raising a brow at him. She brought herself onto her toes, pressing a soft kiss upon the scar on his lip, her tongue flicking out to taste. "Thinking of little me? Whatever for, my Commander?"

He kissed the smirk off of her face, his hands moving down her torso and to her hips. He yanked her closer to him, and she gasped in his mouth, startled by the sudden movement. He took the opportunity to further stake his claim on her mouth with his tongue, and since she was never one to back from a fight -

A loudly cleared throat interrupted them, and they jumped back from each other, their faces flaming red at being caught.

Cassandra stood in front of them, her arms crossed and a carefully placed expression on her face. "Ellana. Cullen."

Ellana covered her face with her hands and groaned wordlessly, her face burning against her palms. Cullen's hand had already taken residence on his neck in dismay, and his gaze was placed firmly on the ground. "Cassandra," he answered stiffly.

Cassandra merely gave them both a look. "You are both needed in the war room."

"Right," Ellana said quickly, peaking past her fingers to look up at Cullen. "We shouldn't keep them waiting. That would be rude. Let's go?"

"Yes," Cullen muttered, still unable to look up. "We should not delay."

Ellana glanced at Cassandra, before quickly looking away, disliking the knowing look that was creeping upon the Seekers face. Cullen, however, disappeared through the doorway into Solas' room almost instantly in an embarrassed shuffle, leaving Ellana to clear her throat slightly and give Cassandra a nod before moving to walk away.

"And Ellana?"

Ellana paused at Cassandra's voice, stopping to turn and look at the Seeker.

"I am glad you reconciled with Cullen." Cassandra's mouth quirked upwards slightly in a smile. "Although I question your location of choice."

"Oh, Creators grant me mercy," Ellana groaned, stalking back through the doorway, the tips of her ears red.


	50. Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana, Cullen, and crew raid Samson's headquarters.

Having Cullen at her side in battle was both exhilarating and terrifying, Ellana decided as she plucked an arrow from her quiver, sparing a sideways glance at her Commander. Exhilarating because she could watch him in action, taking in the way that his body moved with a sword in his hand, practiced and almost beautiful in its execution.

He was swiftly dispatching a corrupted templar, bringing his shield up to block a blow before thrusting at his foe, a spray of red bursting around his sword. Cassandra stood at his back, pushing her combatant to the ground with her shield before stabbing him in the stomach and twisting. Cullen swiftly brought up his shield once more to block an arrow flying into Cassandra's path, before he glanced at Ellana and he began to shout for her to move -

It was terrifying because he drove her to distraction.

An arrow flew by her head, narrowly missing her, and she turned back to shoot her own arrow into the eye of an enemy archer that had managed to sneak up behind her. Her ears twitched and she spun around to let an arrow fly into the shield of another templar who was gaining ground on her. She looked around, seeing no easy way out, before throwing down a smoke bomb and reappearing quickly on the rail of a staircase behind her foe, shooting an arrow into the templar's shoulder. The templar roared in anger before turning to her and bursting into flame.

She scanned the area and saw Dorian smirking at her, and she rolled her eyes before shooting another arrow at the immolating templar for good measure. 

As the templar fell to his knees, Cole pressed his daggers into the templar's neck and sliced. He looked up and nodded grimly to Ellana, and she looked around the grounds once more, the grass littered with corpses. She walked around and gathered up any recoverable arrows that she could find, wiping them clean of blood, whispering her prayer onto the fallen. 

She glanced up and saw Cullen flicking blood off of his sword, his face in a grimace.

"I know he's pretty, but I'm not sure it's worth being riddled with arrows," a voice whispered conspiratorially in her ear, and she glared up at Dorian. She bared her teeth at him, unable to think of a witty retort, and he crossed his arms and raised a brow at her.

She stood up and, pointedly ignoring Dorian, nodded to the rest of the group. "Let's go," she intoned, walking swiftly in the direction of the manse in the distance. "We have to be close." The group followed her at her command, arms drawn and ready for heavy resistance. 

Cullen walked beside her, his words low so that the others couldn't hear him. "You seem - distracted. Are you alright?"

An small, embarrassed smile crossed her face before she glanced up at him momentarily, her voice sultry. "Watching you fight is - an experience, to say the least."

He cleared his throat at her words, his cheeks coloring as he looked up and away. "Oh. Um - I see."

Before she could think up another way to make him blush, tall, iron gates loomed over them. Mindful of their company, Ellana raised her voice. "Commander?"

"This is it," Cullen said as they entered the gates. "The heart of Samson's command."

The manse stood tall in front of them, the banners of the red templars flying proudly from the windows. Ellana scowled at the sight, before nodding and signing for the group to fan out.

"It's too quiet," Ellana muttered to herself, notching an arrow to her bow. She raised her voice. "Stay alert, everyone. This could be a trap."

As they walked through the large wooden doors of the manse, they arrived to flames and destruction.

Ellana let out a stream of curses in Elvish, before looking back at the group. Cullen walked up to her, sheathing his sword before crossing his arms and looking contemplative. "Samson must've ordered his templars to sack his headquarters so he couldn't be followed," he concluded, his brows furrowed.

"Let's look around," Ellana sighed, lowering her bow. "They must have left something behind."

They walked carefully through the manse, silent as they gazed at the destruction around them. Dorian glanced at the ceiling every time the fire crackled, terrified that it would fall upon them at any moment.

Suddenly, Cole looked around, confused, turning in a circle. "So much pain - but nothing with it. Why is there no feeling? Empty, empty, a doll without its stuffing... Why is there - no fear, no anger, just... pain?"

"What are you talking about, Cole?" Ellana laid a hand on Cole's shoulder, trying to calm him down and understand what he was trying to say. Before Cole could answer, Cassandra motioned for them to be quiet with the motion of her hand.

"Someone is there," Cassandra hissed, spotting a form leaning against a spire of red lyrium. 

Ellana let go of Cole and carefully walked up to the man, weapons drawn and ready to strike. The others followed her, just as prepared to fight.

"Hello, Inquisitor," the tranquil said flatly, a sunburst emblem emblazoned on his forehead.

Ellana blinked, lowering her bow. "You know me?"

"It's Maddox, Samson's tranquil," Cullen said when he recognized the man, kneeling at his side. "Something's wrong - I'll call the healers."

"That wont be necessary, Knight-Captain Cullen," Maddox replied, clutching his stomach. "I drank my whole supply of blightcap essence. It wont be long now."

Ellana grimaced, her knowledge of poisons telling her that he did not take the painless way out. Her eyes softened at the suffering man. "We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox."

"Yes," Maddox replied. "And that was what I could not allow. I destroyed the camp with fire - we all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape."

Cullen stared at him incredulously. "You would throw your life away? For Samson? Why?"

"Samson saved me even before he needed me; he gave me purpose again." Maddox's voice began to falter as his eyes fluttered shut. "I... wanted to help..."

Ellana lowered her head in respect as the tranquil slumped over before turning to her companions. "Everyone - split up, search for anything useful." She gently laid a hand on Cullen's arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. "We should bury him."

Cullen looked around, sighing. "Dismal place to die. It can't have been much a place to live, either, under Samson's command. I'll have someone take care of it - if even Samson did his best for Maddox, we can do no less."

Ellana looked up to see the others rummaging around the flames and smoke, and Cassandra moving towards them.

"Cullen," Cassandra called, walking up to him, a piece of paper in her hand. "A message - for you. From Samson."

Cullen took the letter into his hands and read it, his face becoming darker at each word. The paper crumpled in his grip and he handed it to Ellana. "I do not wish to carry this," he muttered to her, and she glanced down at the letter and frowned before looking up.

As she read the words, she grimaced, glancing up at the stiff back of her Commander as he stalked towards the other side of the manse.


	51. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samson's letter brings Cullen doubt.

When Ellana returned to Skyhold with Cullen and her companions after the events at the manse, Cullen seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Ellana searched through his usual haunts - his office, the training yard, the armory - and could find him nowhere. She then rummaged through every dark corner of the keep she could think of, wondering where her Commander had run off.

She eventually found him in the ancient library in the underbelly of Skyhold, staring contemplatively at the spines of the dusty books that lined the walls.

"Cullen?" She called to him quietly, trying not to startle him. He looked up at her, his expression thoughtful before it morphed into a small smile at her presence.

"Ellana," he answered just as quietly, his voice sounding almost thankful. When she walked up to him, he immediately wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her into him, and she rested her head against his shoulder, trying to comfort him wordlessly.

They stood in companionable silence for a few minutes before Cullen spoke up. "I thought perhaps I could find some proof, but - there is nothing. It was all nonsense."

Ellana glanced up at Cullen, confused at his words. "What?"

"What Samson wrote," Cullen clarified, his fingers on her hip now pressing into her skin with more force. "It was... nonsense."

Ellana's brow furrowed in concern, ignoring the pressure on her hip. "Yet you sound as if you do not believe what you are saying."

His other hand came up to his face, before he sighed, removing it and staring back at the books. "It was - the talk about the Chantry."

Ellana stayed silent, willing her Commander to continue.

Cullen looked down at her. "Most of my life has been spent serving the Chantry and the Maker, and I did it gladly. I may no longer live that life, but I - I still have respect for, faith in the Chantry and the Order."

"Despite everything that has happened?" Ellana questioned, her hand now snaking up to take his free hand into her own. "We work tirelessly because the Chantry could not recover from the hardships they face; and the Templar Order... we fight them now because they allied with Corypheus. How could you continue to have faith in that?"

He laughed humorlessly, his voice heated. "Yes, I do realize what's happened."

Ellana cringed, realizing the harshness of her words. "Cullen, I -"

He released her then, spinning to face her, his face anguished, and Ellana's hand fell to back to her side. "Is it so hard to believe? My whole life - I've done what I thought was right, what would be the best way to protect the innocent. I have sacrificed much, and suffered immeasurably to do so! And I've done so with little complaint. It was my duty."

Ellana stared at him, wide-eyed at his anger. "I didn't -"

He continued to rant, not allowing her to get a word in edgewise. "I have always been told that templars need lyrium to use their powers. There were always whispers that - that claimed templars did not need it, that the Chantry only forced it upon us to control us, but I let my faith shield me from believing such lies. And now? Samson's letter, all of this - evidence - and now, I do not know!"

Ellana watched him breathe heavily and placed a hand on his arm. "Cullen. What - what other evidence do you have? What are you talking about?"

He laughed once again; her heart wrenched at the twisting of his usual warmth, and she pulled her hand back as if burned. "I can still - I have not taken it for months, and yet I can still use all of my abilities! I just don't - lyrium is like a.. a singing, in your blood, a music that you draw on to - to..." He stopped, unable to piece the words together, and gazed at her mournfully. "I knew the risks as a recruit, the eventual madness, but it did not matter because I was serving the Maker. The Chantry did as it must, for the mages and common folk must be protected. It was a good life, a life of service. But now? Now I do not know if my faith was well placed, I do not... now that I have you. This - this addiction, it is but another piece that can tear us apart. I have faith, Ellana, but now I have so much doubt."

"Cullen, I - " At a loss for words, Ellana wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself by her toes to kiss him. He sighed against her mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulled her close to him, taking her succor and placing it like a balm against the hurt that plagued him. The kiss suddenly turned sensual, a heat running through their bodies as their tongues danced. Cullen's hand moved up to squeeze a breast, and she moaned against his mouth, spurring him on.

Ellana's hands wandered down to the laces of his breeches, and he froze, staring down at her. She smiled back up at him, her nimble fingers pausing in their quest at his expression.

"Here?" Cullen said softly, looking nervously out into the corridor. "What if...?" He gulped when her smile turned predatory, his blood rushing even hotter at the wickedness in her expression.

Her fingers danced against the hardening in his pants, and he shuddered, the deliberate touches not helping him hold his desire in check. She glanced down at his groin, her fingers pulling the strings apart before looking up at him through her fluttering eyelashes, a smirk crossing her face. "Don't you want me, Ser? Can you not handle - "

At her words, Cullen growled and picked her up, nearly slamming her against the bookcase. Some of the tomes fell off of the shelves and crashed to the ground in an explosion of sound and dust swirling around them. Ellana stared up at him with her mouth slightly parted, wide-eyed at his aggression. He leaned in and bit her lip roughly, before moving to suck on her collarbone. Her hands wandered into his hair, and the noises bubbled out of her at his ministrations filled his ears encouraged him to continue.

He paused in his explorations and tore off one of his gloves with his teeth, throwing it somewhere behind him. He ripped at her pants, her own laces loosening at the motion, and she lifted up a leg to his waist. He pressed a finger against her, and feeling wetness, brought it to his lips and flicked out his tongue to taste.

Ellana's eyes were now almost comically wide, and she gulped, not knowing what she brought out in her Commander with her taunting; but she couldn't deny being incredibly turned on by his forcefulness. She kicked her boots off of her feet and he pulled her pants down her legs and threw them to the side as well, lifting her other leg and placing it against his waist. She tugged at her smallclothes and he caught her wrist, pulling it up and holding it against the shelf before he used his other hand to simply move the cloth aside, slowly pressing himself into her.

She gasped when he entered her, her legs tightening around his waist to pull him to her fully. Her one free hand found itself gripping his shoulder as he thrust in and out her, and her eyes closed to try to concentrate on the feeling. She then felt his fingers roughly on her chin, and her eyes fluttered open to see Cullen staring down at her, his eyes dark as he slid into her, deliberate and slow. A heat spread throughout her, a sensation that she could not pinpoint, but knew she was nearing something, something -

The sensations piled upon her like an avalanche, threatening to drown her in its wake. His fingers on her face, forcing her to look at him; his heated gaze stripping her down as if she were not still wearing her blouse. The sight of him moving against her, how he was biting the sensitive of her neck, how he was sucking on the tips her ears. His hand pressing against her wrist as he crushed her against the bookcase with his weight. The chill of his breastplate through her clothes as it cooled her burning skin, hot with want and need. The knowledge that someone could walk down the staircase and see him taking her, claiming her as his own -

The feelings overwhelmed her, the heat and pleasure culminating into a peak that she could almost reach out and touch - and then she suddenly crashed hard, a scream ripping out of her throat that was quickly smothered by Cullen's mouth on her own.

She had thrown her head back as she came, her head thudding against ancient books in her ecstasy. Cullen buried his head into her shoulder, a strangled noise escaping his throat as he followed, his vice on her wrist loosening as they stopped to catch their breath.

"Sweet Creators. I should taunt you more often," Ellana finally managed after a few deep breaths, and Cullen laughed despite himself, lifting his head from her shoulder to press his lips against her brow, and then onto her own lips in a quick kiss.

"Thank you," Cullen finally said, and she snorted at him, raising a brow at him and then glancing at her legs still wrapped around his waist. He cleared his throat, recognizing the way his words could be taken, and continued. "For being here, for listening to me rant, for - for everything."

Ellana sighed dramatically. "Mind-blowing romps in the cellar don't make the list? What a pity."

Cullen colored slightly; how he could blush despite being so confident before would be a constant mystery to her. "I did say everything."

Ellana laughed, a hand smacking his shoulder, her voice teasing. "Let me down, you deviant!"

He gently helped her to her feet, and began to look for his glove as she looked for her discarded clothing. Cullen attempted to replace the books in the correct places in the bookshelf while Ellana looked contemplative as she finished lacing up her boots.

"Cullen, I must say this. I do have fears about what may come to pass, about - everything that could possibly go wrong. Lyrium is on that long and growing list, and - there is no end to the list of things in this blighted world that will bring us trials, that will test our faith." She walked up to him, interlacing one of his hands with her own before she placed the other on top. "I can say nothing about the Chantry, but - whatever doubt I have about you recovering is drowned by my faith in you."

Cullen had turned to her as she had begun speaking, and his mouth suddenly felt dry at her words. "I am not worthy of such - "

"It's not a question of worth, Cullen," she answered, her voice tender and open as she squeezed his hand. "I believe in you unconditionally. I hope you can take strength in that, and not let the doubt crush you in its grip."

She refused to say that she could not believe otherwise - that the thought of losing him without losing him would drive her to the brink of madness. That the Nightmare's visions still plagued her mind and she fought daily to remove them. Cullen pulled her into another embrace, his head resting on top of hers as they stood in the middle of the library, unable to find the words to tell her how she affected him; but he felt the fear in his heart lessen, the anger and despair tempering into a softer pain.


	52. Satinalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition celebrates Satinalia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and a happy holiday to everyone!

"Inquisitor! Inquisitor!"

Ellana looked up from her desk, startled by Josephine rushing up her steps in a flurry, her hands full of package. "Josephine?"

"Ellana!" Josephine exclaimed, placing the boxes onto her desk before dragging Ellana from her chair and pulling her to stand next to her. Josephine opened one of the smaller boxes quickly and then turned to her. When Josephine thrust the mask into her hands, Ellana stared down at it dumbly. It was one of the half-masks currently in fashion in Orlais: burgundy, gilded with some kind of golden colored metal that shimmered in the light as she turned it in her hands, and with white feathers attached in threes by the eyes. It was a beautiful mask, but it looked horribly expensive. "What, in the names of the Creators, is this for?"

Josephine looked incredibly excited, and it filled Ellana with a sense of dread. No one should be that perky. "It's Satinalia!" Josephine explained, spinning around in a circle in her joy. "I told you about it before you left, remember?"

Ellana stared at her blankly. "It's... um... would you hate me if I do not remember?"

Josephine smiled widely at her. "Of course not! It was a while ago. I suppose the Dalish do not celebrate Satinalia, but it is a wonderful holiday in Antiva - and the rest of Thedas, actually! Everyone wears masks and celebrates with feasting and gift-giving among friends and family. That's why I had this mask made for you - you're supposed to wear it for the party."

"Party?" Ellana sputtered, not remembering this part of the conversation at all, especially after running around the Emerald Graves for weeks. "Is that what all the stuff outside is for? And why you were running around more frantic than usual yesterday?"

"I was not!" Josephine protested, pulling out a collection of various pans and bottles. "Now, sit down. I need to paint your face."

"Paint my face? Why? I'm putting on this mask to hide my face, aren't I?" Ellana protested, sitting in the chair despite herself. Later, she would swear that Josephine's puppy eyes must be a form of blood magic, because she found herself following her every whim without too much of a second thought.

"Just trust me," Josephine said, and she set to work.

Ellana kept her eyes firmly closed, not wanting to watch, and yelped when something pressed against them. "What are you doing?"

"Kohl, for your eyes," Josephine answered distractedly. "Now sit still and stop fidgeting!"

Ellana grumbled but complied, breathing a sigh of relief when Josephine finally announced that she was done.

"Now put your mask on!" Josephine ordered, gushing when she did. "Oh, you look wonderful!" She placed her own mask on her face, an ornate, frilly thing with blues and golds that matched her clothes. "One last thing! Well, two, I suppose." 

When Josephine opened the next package and pulled out the contents, Ellana blanched beneath her mask. "No."

"Yes!" Josephine grinned, pressing the clothes against her shoulders. Ellana grabbed it before it fell at the floor, looking down at it in dismay. The bodice of the dress was burgundy and the front was cut low, the heavy velvet embroidered with golden thread.

"Josephine," Ellana said lowly, a panic rising up her throat. "This color scheme - "

"It's beautiful, is it not? Straight from the best seamstress in Orlais." Josephine ran a hand across the cloth, admiring the craftsmanship. "I had to ask for your measurements from Harritt, so I hope it fits."

"Josephine!" Ellana's voice was raised, sounding almost hysterical. "Why am I matching Cullen? This - this isn't even subtle! I can't - I... I can't go in front of the Inquisition like this! He will be mortified!"

Josephine blinked, utterly confused by her distress, until she understood and a smile overcame her face. "Ah. You misunderstand; one, you are wearing a mask. Very few outside of our inner circle will recognize you. Secondly - Sera is in charge today."

"What!" Ellana nearly shrieked. "Dread Wolf take me, what are you going on about?"

"The... ah... fool? Rules for a day," she answered, smiling. "Do not worry - she's just acting the tyrant and having a bit of fun. Leliana is making sure nothing... untoward comes of it."

"Nothing untowa- oh, sweet Creators guide my path and save me," Ellana moaned, closing her eyes tightly. When she opened her eyes once more, Josephine had already rustled through another package and brought out a pair of shoes with ungainly large heels. Ellana quickly closed her eyes before opening them once more, hopeful that her eyes were tricking her. "I will wear that - that... dress, only if I can go barefoot," Ellana bartered, staring aghast at the torture devices Josephine dangled from her fingertips.

"Deal!" Josephine agreed cheerily, putting the shoes away, and Ellana had the distinct feeling that she'd been had. Josephine then spun around away from Ellana. "Go and put it on! I'll close my eyes, too."

Ellana sighed deeply before removing her clothing and slipping into the dress. When she brought her hands back to try to tie the laces, she failed miserably, her hands fumbling with the strings. "Josephine, I need help with the back."

Josephine whipped around and smiled. "It fits! Oh, you will take his breath away, Ellana."

"I don't want to kill him," Ellana said dryly, and Josephine ignored her words, walking around her. She shifted her hair to lay across her shoulders and fiddled with the laces.

When Josephine finished, she took Ellana's hand and guided her to the stairs. "We will be late! Come!"

"Isn't it a bit frivolous to do this right now, Josephine?" Ellana asked as they rushed down the stairs, her brows furrowing. "We have too many things to worry about right now to - celebrate."

Josephine stilled her descent down the steps, turning back to Ellana with a serious expression on her face. "And when should we celebrate, then, Ellana?"

Ellana blinked at her sudden change in mood, hesitating as she stopped quickly so she wouldn't tumble down the stairs. "I... um..?"

"There will always be reasons to put moments of happiness on hold," Josephine continued. "Morale has been improving, but if we take all these men and women from their home and work them until they break - what will we be then? I want to help give them a small taste of normalcy, something they can look forward to after Corypheus is defeated."

Ellana fell silent, and the two women stared at each other before Ellana finally nodded in acquiesce. Josephine's smile returned, and she tugged on Ellana's hand, dragging her down into the main hall. When she opened the door, the sight of so many finely clothed individuals in the usually utilitarian Skyhold took her breath away. "I feel like I've been transported to Orlais," Ellana muttered. 

Josephine laughed and let go of Ellana's hand. "Unfortunately, no; but fortunately, those who consider themselves players of the grand game will be fewer in number tonight."

"Wait, Josephine - what... what am I supposed to do?" She whispered, glancing around at the milling crowd.

"Pretend you are not the Inquisitor," Josephine said kindly, before shuffling off into the crowd. "Mingle! Have fun."

"Okay," Ellana muttered to herself, taking a deep breath. "You survived Halamshiral. You can... mingle. Just pretend someone is going to die if you don't. Easy." 

Ellana strode confidently into the throng of nobles, sending polite greetings to everyone that crossed her path. Many stuck their nose up at her due to her stature and obviously Elven ears, and she tried not to frown, simply continuing to dip her head at the dignitaries and visiting nobles that she passed. Guards stood posted at the obvious points in the main hall, blocking all passageways except the main hall doors. She spotted Dorian leaning against a wall, sipping a mug of beer.

"Well, this is festive," Dorian said mildly as Ellana walked up to him, arms crossed as he surveyed the crowd. "Josephine did not hesitate to spend the coin for this." He glanced down at her and then did a double-take. "You're wearing a dress! You... have breasts?"

Ellana glowered at him. "Ass."

He laughed loudly, bumping his shoulder into hers. "Ah, don't look so down! They're... cute! I'm sure the Commander will be pleased, if he would ever show up. He may even crack a smile! What a thought."

"He's not here?" Ellana asked, frowning in thought as she willfully ignored his comments on her bust. "How do you know with all these people?"

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Do you not remember Halamshiral? If he was here, you would know - there would be men and women fawning all over him again. I suspect it's half the reason he's not - too many Orlesians for his tastes." Dorian spotted something over her head and cringed. "If you don't want to be caught by our new glorious leader, I suggest you make scarce."

Ellana looked over her shoulder and saw Sera making her way towards them, before turning back to Dorian. "Why the face?"

"Josephine didn't tell you? The game is for Sera to find you and prank you - and those colors would be awfully revealing when they figure out who you are," Dorian said quickly, placing a hand on Ellana and muttering something. She shimmered until she disappeared from sight. "That will only last a little while. I suggest you move, now."

Ellana did not need to be told twice and began to move across the room. She saw Iron Bull in the crowd and walked towards him, his horns like a signal beacon. By the time she reached him, she had reappeared, and she tapped his forearm to get his attention. He looked down at her for a moment, squinting, before a smile came over his face. "Boss! You look nice."

"Thanks, Bull," Ellana mumbled back, looking around furtively. "I'm guessing this is as foreign to you as it is to me?"

"Nah," he said easily. "I'd been in Orlais for a while, Boss. Everyone seems to get... friskier, during this time. I enjoy it." He laughed at the way her face colored at his words, patting her shoulder. "Ah, don't get that way, you'll match your dress. If you're looking for your man, he's holed up in his tower. I heard Josephine muttering about it earlier."

Ellana colored even deeper at his words. "What are you - he's - not - he is, but - ugh!" 

She stalked off, unable to deal with his plain way of speaking, and Bull called after her as she ran off. "Happy Satinalia, Boss!"

He was rewarded with a rude hand gesture, which only caused him to guffaw even harder.

Ellana exited the main hall and hiked up her skirts as she made her way down the steps, trying to ignore the way her feet felt chilled against the cold stone. She made her way across the courtyard and up the battlements before turning left and slowly opening the door to Cullen's office, peeking inside. He stood in the middle of his office, facing away from her, his golden hair dark in the shadow of the torchlight. She slipped in and closed the door behind her carefully, and at the click he made a sound of annoyance, turning towards the noise, his amber eyes flashing. "Josephine, I've already told y-" He stopped mid-sentence, staring at Ellana.

The first thing he noticed was the plunging neckline of the bodice that revealed a soft outline of her breasts, and how the skin of her chest flushed slightly after her rush across the courtyard. The burgundy colored velvet and the gold embroidery reminded him of his tunic, and he briefly glanced down at his clothes to confirm before continuing to take her in. Her hair, black as night, tumbled down past her shoulders - and her piercing blue eyes stared at him past the mask that covered half of her features. He would know those eyes anywhere, and his legs moved on their own accord as he walked in front of her.

"Maker," he breathed, staring down at Ellana. "You're - you're wearing a dress. In my colors." Even behind the mask, he could see her eyes widen and the way she shifted in discomfort.

"I'm sorry," she said lowly, glancing around. "Josephine - I didn't even know what today was, and she gave me those eyes, made me do things, and I don't know what I'm doing."

"No," he replied softly, shaking his head. "You - you shouldn't be sorry for this. Maker, but you - have you seen yourself?"

Ellana's eyes grew even wider, and she grimaced. "Oh. Oh, Creators; it looks horrible doesn't it?"

Cullen froze, unsure of how he got that reaction from her. "What? No! I just... you - you look very... good, Ellana."

Ellana laughed and shook her head. "You sure know how to make a girl feel pretty, Cullen."

Cullen sighed noisily, his hand coming up to rub his neck. "Can I try again?"

"Please, by all means," Ellana replied, her eyes twinkling.

Cullen lifted his hands to her mask and slowly pulled it off of her face, careful not to damage it within his hands. He held his breath when her lashes fluttered at him, the kohl lining her eyes and the soft brown color on her lids making her eyes appear larger and her irises brighter. Her lips were painted a soft orange-coral, begging to be kissed, and he complied, lowering his lips to meet hers, soft and sweet as his fingers clutched her hair. Her hands clung to his shoulders and pulled him closer to her, their bodies now flush together as they kissed.

He pulled back from her, a rueful smile on his face and his lips stained with her lipstick. "Better?"

She pulled him back down to kiss her again in answer, her mouth hungry on his own.

When they parted once more, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and nuzzled her before speaking. "You said Josephine gave you that dress?"

"She just showed up in my room and ordered me around," she grumbled. "Did you know Sera is in charge today? I'm not sure whether to be relieved or terrified. I had to flee! Flee! From my own keep!"

"I'm sure we're safe in here. I must thank Josephine," he muttered, his fingers tracing the lines of her breasts as he gazed down at her. "And apologize. I had no idea why she was so insistent on me showing up."

Ellana breathed shakily at his touch, grabbing his fingers with her own, her eyes darkening. "Don't tease me, Commander."

"Who said I was teasing?" He breathed, leaning down to kiss her once more.

"Hope you're both dressed! We're coming in!" A muffled voice called out from the other side from the door, and Cullen froze, quickly standing straight. The door then burst open, and Cole, Varric, Dorian, Blackwall, and Cassandra filtered into the office, each of them holding mugs. The Iron Bull followed them right after with a keg in each hand, grunting as his horns hit the door frame. He set the kegs down with a grunt, brushing off his hands, before leaving once more.

Cassandra leveled a look a both of them, trying not to smile at their expressions. "Cullen. Ellana."

Ellana cleared her throat, trying to calm down the rushing of her blood and the thudding in her chest. "Um - we were..."

"Oh, don't even try," Dorian laughed, waving a hand. "Oh good! You're both decent. Let's do this then."

"What are we doing?" Ellana asked, looking between the intruders warily.

Varric snickered at her expression. "Nothing so terrible. Ah, Curly, you have something on your face."

Cullen rubbed the color off of his lips with his sleeve, blushing to the roots of his hair and muttering a 'thanks.' Ellana giggled and reached up, thumbing off a spot that he missed. Iron Bull entered once again with more kegs, this time managing to not hit his horns and looking inordinately pleased with himself at the success.

"Anyways, on Satinalia, you exchange gifts between friends. Since Curly can't be bothered to stop working for more than three seconds, and Sera was beginning to annoy all of us, we came to you," Varric finished, raising a brow at them.

Ellana blanched. "But - I... I didn't know. I don't have - "

Varric laughed at her. "Are you kidding? None of us do; we were roaming those woods with you too, remember? That's why we brought the beer."

As they settled on the floor of Cullen's office, Iron Bull filling all of their mugs with cold beer, Ellana felt a warmth that spread all the way to her toes. Cole sat and watched everyone, a smile on his face as everyone around him was happy. Blackwall brought another beer to his lips, the froth decorating his beard as he and Iron Bull began a drinking contest in earnest. Cassandra and Varric watched and bickered, and Dorian, not one to avoid a snark-off, joined the fray. Cullen laughed uncontrollably at something Varric said, his hand hitting his thigh in his mirth. She glanced around between her laughing friends, the man she loved beside her, and she was suddenly very thankful. The explosion at the Conclave was a horrendous occurrence that she would never have wished to happen - but because of it, because of her survival, she met all of these amazing people who fought beside her side, and she couldn't be happier. 

When the kegs ran dry and the conversation began to die, Dorian was passed out on the floor, unable to hold his drink. Iron Bull lifted him up and gave a two-finger salute to everyone before carrying him out. Cassandra stumbled to her feet, dragging Blackwall up with her and allowing him to lean on her as she stumbled out, Varric walking beside her and continuing to argue with the half-asleep and incoherent Blackwall about jousting. 

Cole looked at Ellana and Cullen, a confused look on his face. "Everyone was happy," he said in awe, staring at the one cup of beer that he never finished. "All the dark thoughts were pushed away, locked in a corner and replaced with warmth and cheer."

Ellana stirred at his words, slightly groggy from her drinks. She took a moment to understand him before replying. "Is that good?"

Cole only looked up and smiled, a happy grin that left her blinking in surprise. "Yes. Good night, Ellana. Good night, Cullen," he said, before blinking out of sight.

"I will never get used to that," Cullen muttered into her hair, and she laughed, placing a kiss on his cheek.

She leaned against him again, her head fuzzy from the drink but her heart full from the events of the night. "Happy Satinalia, Cullen."

"Happy Satinalia, Ellana," he replied, pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head and wrapping his arms around her.

They fell asleep leaning against each other as the torches blinked out one by one, covering them in darkness as the holiday grew to a close.


	53. Vivienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne tries to give Ellana some advice.

Vivienne placed her steaming cup of tea delicately on Ellana's desk, straightening out her skirts. "I like what you have done with the place, dear," Vivienne stated primly while glancing about her personal quarters. 

The rubble was nearly completely cleared away, and the soft red draperies bearing an embroidered seal of the Inquisition blocked most of the sunshine from filtering into the room. The small, moth-bitten cot had been replaced by a luxurious four-post bed that Ellana had graciously accepted as a gift from an Orlesian noble. The desk that they sat at now, however, was the centerpiece of the room; a large table made from the highest quality of materials, the warmth of the wood reminding her of the forests of the Free Marches. A pot of tea sat on a small, square black mat, a soft cloud of steam rising into the hair. However, the familiarity of her room brought her little comfort now. 

Ellana nodded politely at Vivienne, already wary of her intentions. "Thank you. If I may be direct - you wished to meet with me?"

Vivienne nodded. "Yes - I wanted to speak of your relationship with Commander Cullen."

Ellana stiffened, her eyes narrowing slightly at the First Enchanter.

"Oh, do stop that," Vivienne sighed, waving a hand. "You're horrible at hiding your emotions, darling. I do not know how you survived Halamshiral." She picked up her teacup again, bringing it to her lips and taking a small sip. "I am not here to tell you what to do, but to provide counsel that no one else will give in fear of angering you. You are now a player in the grand game, and you must follow its rules."

"I have no interest in your grand game, Vivienne," Ellana replied tiredly, drumming her fingers on her desk in a show of impatience. 

"As I have grown to realize," Vivienne said lightly, eyeing Ellana's restless hands with a small amount of distaste. "Yet you must recognize that greater alliances could be won with his affections, yes?"

Ellana sat back in her chair, confused at her words but already knowing that she was not liking the way the conversation was going. "What do you - what are you talking about?"

Vivienne sighed once more, sounding almost disappointed. "You can be so simple, my dear. You are a powerful woman, with even greater forces behind you; the Inquisition grows in strength by the day. Once Corypheus is dealt with, you must stay relevant to continue. Many noble ladies in Orlais have expressed to me their... interest, in the Commander. He could bring more powerful ties to the Inquisition."

Ellana held back a scowl at her words, trying her best to keep her voice level and her temper in check. "The Inquisition is not meant to last forever, First Enchanter. Once Corypheus is dead, the rifts closed, and the Chantry stabilized, there will be no need for us anymore."

Vivienne looked surprised, and then amused, a polite smile overtaking her lips. "You actually believe that."

"Of course I do. I do not know what is next for me, but I do not plan on being the Inquisitor forever." Ellana sighed. "Grasping for power is not my strong suit, Vivienne. What little I have now haunts my sleep. I have no need for more - and I will not sacrifice Cullen's, or my, happiness to do so."

"You say that now, darling, but you are -" Vivienne paused. "You are perhaps too good. There will always be people to help, and someone will always convince you to keep going, without regard to yourself."

Ellana blinked at her. "Vivienne?"

"I have a high opinion of you, Inquisitor," Vivienne continued, carefully stressing her title. "You must prepare in case your vision of the future does not come to pass, and use your resources wisely. Commander Cullen is a good man, but he holds no land or titles outside of the Inquisition." A pause as she took another sip of her tea. "You do not have to cease your activities. Noble marriages are matters of politics and inheritance - and Orlesian women are usually very accommodating." Vivienne drew herself up smoothly, placing her half-empty teacup back onto the table. "Please consider what I have said, and do excuse me, my dear. I fear I have taken enough of your time."

Ellana watched her go in silence, before taking the teacup into her hand and throwing it at the wall with a frustrated scream. The delicate china shattered, the sugared tea dripping slowly down the wall. 

"How dare she," Ellana seethed, her fingers curling into fists. She sat still for a few moments, trying to control her breathing and squash the anger burning in her chest. Failing that, she pushed herself up and stalked out of the room, knowing who she needed.

\--

When Cullen opened the door to his office, he was not expecting it to be taken over by an extremely angry, dagger-wielding Ellana. Her face was drawn into a scowl, her entire body tense as she had gathered all of his throwing daggers in a pile on his desk.

"She dare speak to me of land and titles!" Ellana raged, the dagger leaving her hand in a burst of anger. It flew through the air, embedding itself in the dummy's head. She picked up another dagger and threw it, punctuating her efforts with a word.

"Conniving," A loud thunk as the dagger struck the dummy in the heart.

"Heartless," Another thunk as it landed in the stomach.

"Bitch!"

Cullen continued to stand in the doorway, his hand stuck on the handle as she released her anger on the dummy. His eyes widened in alarm when she swirled to him, dagger in hand; but when she recognized him, she lowered the dagger sheepishly. "Cullen."

"Ellana," he answered hesitantly, eyes flickering between her face and the dagger. "I am almost afraid to ask." He closed the door and strode up to her, gently grasping one of her hands and looking pointedly at the other. She laid the dagger down on the pile of knives, but then slipped out of his grasp, pacing up and down his office.

"Madame de Fer decided it was time to give me advice," she snarled. "Telling me -" she suddenly stopped mid-step, looking at him warily. 

His eyes narrowed at her hesitation, his voice almost flat. "Telling you what."

"To play her game," she spat, beginning to tremble in her anger. "To marry you off to some Orlesian lady to fumble for power."

His face went blank, trying to still the fear that coiled in his guts at her words. "Are you telling me this for a reason?"

She blinked at him, confused, before looking dumbfounded. "What? No! Creators, no, no. I will not give you up to some frittering Orlesian noble because some ice-veined court mistress tells me so." She crossed her arms, looking pensive. "But if she had the gall to tell me, how many others are thinking it? What is going on behind our backs, Cullen? You and I have little talent in this realm."

He pulled her shaking form close to him, somehow incredibly relieved by her anger. "I highly doubt it was more than a suggestion, Ellana."

"I need to be sure," she growled, her eyebrows furrowing in thought. "You are mine, and I will not suffer even the thought- "

He kissed her hungrily, and pushing her backwards until Ellana bumped into his desk. She scrambled, sitting on it, kissing him frantically before they broke away from each other, breathing heavily.

"Your bedroom being up a ladder is awfully inconvenient right now," she grumbled petulantly, staring into his eyes with want.

He shrugged, and kissed her again, teeth nipping at her lip before replying. "I am very fond of the desk."

"Again with the desk?" Ellana sighed dramatically as he pushed her onto her back. "If you insist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find Vivienne a very interesting character. I don't think she and Ellana would ever be besties, though...


	54. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana mourns.

A raven with a white feather on its breast fluttered through the ceiling of his office, and Cullen watched as it settled lightly onto his proffered arm. He gently plucked the note from its talons and fed it some dry grains before lifting his elbow up, and the bird flew off of him and back to the skies in an explosion of feathers. His fingers deftly pulled open the scroll, breaking the seal of the Inquisition that kept the contents hidden, and read the words rapidly. 

His face blanched and he stood up abruptly from his desk, his chair falling to the stone floor in a cacophony of sound. The note crumpled in his hand as he threw open the door to his office to begin rushing through the halls of Skyhold, trying to find Ellana before someone else did. He scoured every part of the hold that he could think of before a maid quietly pointed him towards the courtyard; then, one of the recruits pointed him towards the prison.

His footsteps were loud and echoed in the narrow stairway as he rushed down the endless steps, his eyes meeting the jailer's when he finally reached the bottom. The woman grimaced and nodded her head to the door behind her, and he nodded back gratefully, opening the door quietly and peeking inside.

Ellana stood in the deepest part of the prison, her feet toeing the edge of the floor and the sky as she stared off into the distance. He carefully brought himself around the door and closing it quietly, approaching her carefully and noting that all the cells lay quiet and empty. Her position seemed precarious, as if the ground would shudder and swallow her whole at any moment - and then pieces of stone flaked off from the floor as she shifted, aching to meet the river that rushed below their feet. He then quickened his steps, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back a step, and she looked up at him, her eyes wet but refusing to cry. He couldn't help but feel the guilt that gnawed at his heart, and he released her from his hands, staring ahead into the river and sky with her.

She held a basket in her hands, resting it lightly on her hip. "I had an intended," she said softly as she too turned her attention back in front of her, lifting a hand and grabbing a handful of something from the basket. She moved her hand in front of her and unclenched her fingers, flower petals floating in the air into the river below. "Dareth shiral," she muttered to herself, the words wistful as they escaped her lips.

"An intended?" He asked just as softly, now standing by her side.

"Yes - a boy named Yiran," she replied, more petals leaving her hand and into the mercy of the winds. "We were to begin courtship after I was successful on my mission at the Conclave."

He felt a twist in his heart, and he looked down at her, wordless. 

She looked up at him, the ghost of a smile gracing her lips as she understood the reason for his silence. "Ah. I despised the boy with all of my being." She bumped her shoulder into his arm, and he wrapped it around her, bringing her close to him. She sighed at his warmth and snuggled into his side. "He was kind in face, but cruel and relentless in his interactions with me. Yet Keeper Deshanna assured me that he was good match, that I should - give my ring to him. When I left for the Conclave, I was determined, I was ready to endure anything. I - I had... already shamed them so much."

She shook her head, her eyes misting; he knew she spoke of her faint vallaslin and held her tighter, pressing a kiss upon the crown of her head. His thoughts were a swirling mass of both anger, regret, and confusion - and he realized that he never asked her what she had planned to do when this was all over; what she would have done if her clan had lived. But now, how could he ask such questions of her? So he only held her, waiting for her to speak once more. 

"Now... now they're all gone," she whispered, sounding as if she still only half believed it. "I will never hear Keeper Deshanna sing songs to the children, or listen to Shaemal tell stories by the fire in the dead of night. I can never redeem myself to my people."

Cullen looked away from her, his voice hoarse as his fingers loosened on her sides. "If I had given my soldiers better orders, to make sure they protected the clan..."

She shook her head, closing her eyes in pain as she pulled his hands close to her again, her warmth sinking through his gloves. "Do not blame yourself. I was the one who gave the order. I could have - I could have taken time to go to Wycome, to help them flee. So many things could have, should have happened, and I..."

"Tell me what to do, Ellana," he murmured into her hair, feeling completely helpless in the face of her grief. "I will do whatever you ask of me."

"Stay with me," she replied, her voice barely reaching his ears, holding onto him with her one hand as if he were her lifeline. She took a deep breath and raised her voice, and he was surprised when a song burst from her lips. Her voice was pleasant but shaky, the tears beginning to slip out of her eyes and cascade down her cheeks.

"Hahren na melana sahlin,  
Emma ir abelas - souver'inan isala hamin,  
Vhenan him dor'felas - in uthenera na revas..." 

Her voice broke and she was unable to continue. She dropped her basket and turned to him, sobbing into his mantle. He could say nothing, knowing no words would fill the void in her heart; so he held her close, surrounding her with his warmth. He didn't know how long they stood there, holding each other with only her cries and the sound of rushing water filling the room. When her tears finally slowed, she lifted her head and wiped her face, frowning at the way she had ruined his mantle. He lifted a hand to her cheeks, wiping more tears off of them. She gave him a small, shaky smile, before taking a deep breath. "I need to get back out there. I have to..."

He kissed her softly, stealing the words from her mouth. "You once told me that I needed to rest, that you wouldn't let me break down in front of my men. It's your turn, Ellana."

Her eyes flashed and he knew now how she felt when he was being stubborn. He kissed her again, pleading. "Please, Ellana. Take the rest of the day. For yourself, and for everyone who cares about you."

Her eyes softened at his words and she repeated her earlier request. "Will you stay with me?"

He kissed her soundly in reply and took her hand into his own, gently guiding her out of the room. The jailer pointedly looked the other way as they made their way to the stairs and out of the prison, pretending as if she didn't see the Inquisitor break down in front of her. Cullen lead Ellana through the battlements to his office, avoiding as many prying eyes as possible. When they finally arrived, he ushered her up the ladder to his bedroom and helped her take off her boots before gently laying her down on the bed. He pulled the covers over her and made sure she was comfortable before pulling off his own boots and armor and joining her. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her flush against him, both of them letting out a breath they did not know they were holding.

As he felt her in his embrace, he marveled at how small she was. She stood barely at his shoulder, and was so slim and lithe that sometimes he feared that he would crush her. Everything about her was delicate, from her slender neck to her long, dainty fingers and slim hips. Yet they were two pieces of a puzzle, for she somehow managed to nestle into him perfectly, his face nuzzling into her neck and his breaths hot of on her skin. His fingers ran up and down her arms, trying to comfort her as her tears dampened his sheets. 

But Ellana could not cry forever; and soon, her tears gave way to exhaustion, and she fell asleep, her breaths still shaky but steady as she laid against his chest. He pulled her closer to him once more, because if he held her tight enough maybe he could protect her from the pain that his failure had cost her.

As he counted her measured breaths, he too fell to the darkness, weariness closing his eyes as he breathed in her scent and prayed that the Maker would give her strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, seriously. Real talk. 
> 
> I managed to get my entire clan killed, and no one says a word? No comforting words from any of my advisors, companions? C'mon! So this is totally my head-cannon. I mean. I guess this entire work is my head-cannon, but... you get my point.


	55. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana reveals a secret that upsets Cullen.

Cullen awoke to moonlight filtering through the hole in his ceiling, and he groaned in displeasure at being awake, turning over on the mattress but frowning when he realized that Ellana was no longer in his arms. He lifted his head up slightly and blinked wearily, confused when he saw her sitting on the side of the bed, hunched over as she stared at her hands in deep contemplation. "Ellana?" He called out sleepily, bringing himself onto his elbows. "Are you..?"

He paused, knowing that was the wrong question. "What's on your mind?"

She looked up at him with a watery smile, rubbing her face clean of her silent tears. "Ah - I just... I never told you. I would never have told you, probably, because I don't - it seemed right, it is right, and it's stupid, and I... nothing would have stopped me from being with you."

Cullen tried to decipher what she was saying, knowing that by the way she looked at him as if torn to pieces, it was important. "What do you mean?"

Ellana crawled over to him, sitting on her knees as she took his hands into hers, and breathed deeply before speaking. "I would never have been able to go back to my clan, even if..." She trailed off, choking on the words.

He picked up her meaning, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Why not?"

Ellana's heart twisted at his obvious concern, and she squeezed his hands. "You know that the Dalish are a bit... solitary. That we... that as a whole, we do not have a pleasant history with humans."

Cullen nodded, now sitting up straight. "Yes."

She looked down at his hands, concentrating solely on the way that their fingers intertwined. "For the Dalish, having - ah... having relations with a shemlen is punishable by exile. Keeper Deshanna is-" she paused here, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. "Was, kind and generous. But she would never - could never overlook this. I was already promised to another, and I would've - I would have been banished."

She winced at the way he stilled, the heat of his gaze burning holes into her. When he spoke, she couldn't tell whether the tremor in his voice was from anger or something else. "You - you would have given up your clan to be with me? And you would not have told me?"

Ellana scoffed, her thumb rubbing into his palm. "A man as pretty as you? Leaving my clan would be inconsequential. I was never a good elf, anyways."

His grip on her hands tightened, and she looked up with a hesitant smile on her face. His expressions were usually easy for her to read, but now - his gaze was shuttered even though his eyes bored into her. Ellana laughed nervously, looking back down. "Cullen. Do I need to..? I was always running away from the clan; I did not have a good childhood with them, and though they are my people, they... I was already an outcast. And you... you are - it was no difficult decision."

"You should have told me," he insisted, his voice rough with emotion. "I - "

"What would you have done if I told you, Cullen? Avoided me so I could go back to a life I hated?" She said sharply, almost too sharp, and she sighed, softening her tone. "I... It was something that I planned to sort through later. I had already made up my mind."

His eyes narrowed in anger, removing his hands from hers, and she felt cold with his absence. "Was it not my right to know? You say this choice was easy, knowing I would object!"

She fell silent then, taking in the way his lips pressed into a line and his eyes glared at her until she could not endure more of his ire, sighing and glancing away. "Would it really have made such a difference?"

Her voice sounded so broken and worn that he felt his heart clench, the desire to pull her back into his arms to comfort her making his fingers twitch. But his anger still burned within his chest because she kept this from him, knew that it would have hurt him as much as it hurt her if it had come to pass. "If you didn't think it would have, you would have told me."

"It wasn't like that," Ellana retorted hotly, clenching the sheets tightly within her fingers. She looked down at her hands, trying to stop the frustrated tears that gathered; by the Creators, was she sick of crying. "I didn't have a deep philosophical discussion with myself about this. Despite all my efforts, I do know what I am, Cullen. I am a Dalish elf, a knife-ear, a wild savage of the forests. And despite this blighted mark on my hand, despite leading the Inquisition, I will always be an elf first. My clan will - would not have been the only ones that would have looked at us with scorn. Thedas will set its eyes upon us and judge. I know this! But you - I... I - want so desperately for my place to be here. With the Inquisition. With you." 

Her despair left him breathless, and as he watched her tremble before him, he once again knew not what to do. "Ellana, I never - Maker, it never bothered me. I never even thought..." He reached a hand to hook his fingers under her chin, pulling upwards so that she would look him in the eyes. He examined her expression, her eyes red and puffy from crying, more tears already pooling in her eyes; how her brow furrowed and her lips set into a grim line as she concentrated on doing anything but show her weakness any further. "Ellana," he said softly, her name now a mournful sigh in the cold of the night air. He leaned forward, his breath ghosting on her lips. "You - you would have truly accepted banishment? Faced your Keeper because - for me?"

"Yes," she replied immediately; but then she exhaled shakily, a measured breath to calm her, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes, I would have," she repeated, and he wasn't sure if it was to reassure him or her. He watched her close her eyes tightly against the memory of her Keeper's face swimming beneath her eyelids, and the tears that fell were but droplets caught on her eyelashes, wet and shining against her skin.

He knew he should still be angry with her, but the burning he felt had been quenched by her sorrow. He thumbed her lip gently before closing the gap between them, his lips brushing against hers. "Then I can face the world with you."

Her eyes opened then, surprise shining through the now murky cerulean of her eyes. "Cullen - "

"I told you before that I did not want to move on from you after this war is over," he assured her gently, running strands of her hair through his fingers before cupping her cheek. "I do not see myself with anyone else, now or in the future. Let the world say what it wants; I will take what comes because you - nothing is worth losing you."

He brought her closer to him with a tug of his hands, and she looked down at him with a tremulous smile, unable to speak any further. His arms wrapped around her waist, his hand splayed on her back as he gently guided her down to meet his lips. His mouth was hot and needy on her own, wanting to show her, to prove to her that he did not take his words lightly, that his love for her was worth more to him than the approval of the rest of the world. Her hands found purchase in his hair, her fingernails scraping against his scalp as she deepened the kiss, desperate to feel anything but emptiness and despair.

But when his hands wandered to the hem of her tunic, she stilled and stared at him, unable to go any further. "Cullen, I - "

"Shh," he murmured soothingly, pulling her down to lie next to him. "It's alright."

She nuzzled her head against his chest and sighed shakily, and his fingers wove into her own. Her voice was almost inaudible in the quiet, muffled by her mouth against his skin. "I love you."

"And I you," he answered gently, his other hand finding its way into her hair and pulling her closer to him before he rested his chin on top of her head, staring into the dark corners of his room with a look of quiet contemplation.

He continued to hold her close to him, wrapped around her as if he alone could protect her from the eyes of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elves really get kicked around in Thedas, don't they? Luckily Cullen is a honey badger who don't give a, unlike some other Kings of Ferelden we know.
> 
> No, I'm not still bitter. I definitely did not play an elf mage my first playthrough of Origins.


	56. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole realizes that being human is difficult.

Small, bare feet slapped onto the wet and muddy ground as they ran, a rhythmic pounding that echoed in her ears. Her clothes were soaked and drenched from the rain that fell from the darkened sky, her hair slick against her neck, her cheeks; raindrops dripped and gathered at her chin, cold against her feverish skin. A heartbeat thrummed in her ears and her breath choked in her throat as smoke mixed with the air and poisoned her, because despite the rain the trees were on fire, the aravels were on fire, and the smoke that burned her lungs blurred the world around her into an endless fog. 

The feet stopped suddenly at something in the distance, a whimper in the night - and then like a halla in flight she turned in the opposite direction, fleeing for her life. The girl turned to glance at the shadows following her, and Ellana's heart stopped - she knew this child, knew this face warped into a mask of terror. Lynae, daughter of Shaemal and Yinna. A happy, smiling child that thrived in the light of the sun, loved to pick wildflowers and braid them into Ellana's hair as she napped under the leaves of her favorite tree in the forest. 

Faintly, there was the sound of a bow drawn taught, the wood creaking as it was molded into shape - and then the whisper of an arrow on the wind. A scream - was it hers, or the girl's? - as an arrow struck her in the heart, throwing her small form ruthlessly into the wet earth, overly large and foreign as it pierced her through the back as she sank into the muddy grass. A sickly pool of red began to flow around the wound, dripping as an offering to quench the soil - but it refused to drink from the blood of its blood and merely mixed with the rain that wept from the thunderous skies, a soft crimson eerily beautiful against her sun-tanned skin. Lynae's tears ran down her face, a girl too young to bear with the agony that overwhelmed her senses as her heart stilled, and she drew one last shaky breath, her eyes hollow and cold.

Ellana woke with a gasp, sweat drenching her every pore as she sat up, her shaking hands rising to her face as she forced herself to breathe. She ran her hand through her hair and pulled it away from her face, trying not to choke on the bile that rose in her throat as she remembered Lynae, alien in her death. Another breath before she removed the hands from her face and turned her head to look at his side of the bed.

Through her many nightly visits, Ellana had quickly learned that Cullen was a light sleeper. When his nightmares would hound his dreams, she would often climb down the ladder to find him buried in his reports, squinting against the faint candlelight. If he was feeling better by the time she noticed him missing, he would glance up with the most adorable, sheepish smile as she raised a brow at him, sighing dramatically and grumbling about all the work that he had to do as she dragged him back to bed.

The days that he could still see the death behind his eyelids, grief pulling apart his insides, he would give her a look that told her in no uncertain terms that he needed to be left alone; and she would oblige, departing with but a gentle kiss pressed against his cheek, taking his grateful look as a token of his affection as she climbed back up the ladder and buried herself under the covers of his bed. Sometimes she would awaken once more and feel his arms around her, strong and protective, and she would snuggle back into him, sighing with relief that he had once more returned to her. Other days she would awake and discover that he still sat at his desk, staring deeply into the darkest corners of the room, a cup of wine sitting full in his hands as he wandered endlessly in his thoughts.

So when she looked over to his side of the bed and found it empty, she was not surprised to find him gone. She was surprised, however, to see Cole sitting cross-legged, staring at her unblinkingly.

"Creators, Cole!" She yelped, clutching the covers to her chest in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He did not answer her, merely moving his hands in quick, precise motions that made her heart still. Dalish hunting signs; she would know those movements anywhere. She sighed in resignation, allowing the sheets to pool at her hips as she buried her face into her hands. She breathed deeply once, twice, before she allowed herself to look back at the boy.

"You feel my pain." 

It was a statement, not a question, and Cole merely nodded in response, his hands finally pausing in their dance.

"Did it happen that way?" She swallowed, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from his lips. "Is Lynae..?"

"She hurts no longer."

It was a simple phrase, and it cut deep into her heart - but she was out of tears, exhausted in her grief, and she could only nod and stare down at the shadow that he cast upon the sheets. 

"Are they all dead?"

A pause before he tilted his head downwards. His hat covered him, wrapped him in shadow and hid his face from her. "I - I do not know." He looked up at her now, his hair falling across his face. "I was here earlier but - you needed him, to be wrapped in his love. But now... now, you need me."

"Are you here to kill me, Cole?" 

Her voice whispered like a sword from a scabbard, and his eyes widened in fear, recoiling at her words. He felt the images conjuring in her mind - a dagger across the throat, quick and easy, her blood hot against his hands, and he could only look up to her in despair. "No. No! I cannot do that, will not do that. I cannot hurt my friends!"

Ellana laughed then, a humorless sound that chilled both of them. "And I would not let you; I have no wish for death. But I do not know how else you could help me. This is my own pain to wallow in, Cole, until it swallows me whole."

"Her face bright against the firelight, fingers in my hair; calming, soothing, a balm against the hurt. Sola'nadas, da'len - suledin nadas," Cole said, blinking slowly at the feelings that poured into him. His eyes were mesmerizing in the moonlight but she felt violated at his probing, tearing her eyes away. "You didn't know. She loved you, wanted you to be whole and strong."

"They're all dead. She is dead," Ellana said bluntly, her pain bleeding through the harshness of her words. "Even if she did, she can love me no longer. Please, I do not wish to speak of this."

"She did," Cole insisted, and she felt as if he towered above her though he had not moved at all. "A bright star plucked from the night sky and thrown into madness, da'len now da'asha, her face unmarked but her heart shadowed, marred by pain. We have failed her, we have hurt her, so she shall not return. Regret claws at my soul; I should have held her closer, should have guided her better. Ir abelas, da'assan. Falon'Din, ma ghilana mir din'an."

"Cole!" Ellana bit out, her voice anguished and loud, and she tried to escape, to rise to her feet and flee from his truths - but his hands were now holding her wrists in a vice, his touch foreign on her skin. Her eyes widened and she stared at him. When had he ever touched her before? When had he touched anyone, but to grant them the gift of death? She faintly heard Cullen's voice, a panicked bark of her name in the distance, his footsteps loud on the floor below.

"You are hurting, Ellana," Cole said, and as he leaned in a little closer to her, as she felt his nails digging into her skin, unease curled into her gut as she realized that this is what she did to him; he was more human, more impulsive, more real. "Raw, burning, an ache I cannot mend, I failed her, I failed her, I failed her. But you did not fail her. You always help, are always helping - spreading yourself too thin, too little jam on a slice of moldy bread. You did not know, could not have known."

She knew if anyone else had said this to her, had held her against her will like this, she would be furious, fierce and relentless in her wrath. But from Cole, she only felt a numbness that spread from her fingertips, a stillness and quiet that immobilized her and left her empty as a drum. "Stop it," she protested mournfully, struggling weakly against him. "You're - you're taking it from me."

He released her suddenly when his eyes landed on his hands on her wrists, and he backed away from her, his eyes wide as if he had just realized what he had done. "Oh, no," he gasped, and then he disappeared, blinking out of sight.

She breathed heavily, rotating her wrist and examining the crescent-shaped imprints in her skin with intense worry. 

"Ellana!" Cullen's voice broke her out of her reverie, and she focused to find his face close to hers, his eyes gazing at her in concern. "Ellana, are you alright? Were you having a nightmare? I heard you crying out."

"No. No, I am not alright," she answered truthfully, and she was suddenly enveloped in his arms, his head craning to rest on her shoulder as he brought her close to him. She did not know how long they sat there, wrapped up in each other, but eventually she gently pushed away from him, her hand lovingly tracing the curve of his cheek. "I need to talk to Cole."

"Cole?" Cullen repeated in his confusion. "Why - "

"He was here," she interrupted him, unable to explain much more - but when Cullen's eyes flashed dangerously, she remembered his distrust of the boy and her fingers found purchase in the fur of his mantle, smiling tremulously as she tried to reassure him. "He was trying to comfort me, but - I did something to him, before, and he - I have to help him. Now."

His eyes searched for something in her expression before he nodded. "Alright."

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and scrambled out of the bed, finding her trousers and pulling them up her legs before she scrambled down the ladder, sliding down the rails. Cullen watched her go for a moment before he made a decision and began to trail after her. She was running through the battlements, slamming open tower doors in her haste, and he followed her with measured steps, glancing around at every shadow in suspicion.

Ellana threw the door to the tavern open with a loud bang to find Cole pacing back and forth in the attic, his hands holding himself as his feet wore a track in the floor. Her heart broke as she watched him, for she had only seen him this frightened and confused once before, in the Fade at Adamant where everything to him was twisted and wrong. At her entrance, he looked up and backed away from her, terrified.

"You promised me you would kill me if I hurt anyone." His voice was broken and scared, and for every step that advanced her forward, he stepped back, willing to let her take his life but somehow still afraid. Eventually his heels hit the railing behind him, and Ellana stood in front of him, looking up at him silently.

Cullen leaned against the frame of the open doorway, observing quietly as the boy trembled in front of her, his hand curled on the pommel of his sword.

"You didn't hurt anyone," Ellana finally said, and Cullen relaxed as her arms snaked around the boy's shaking form, pulling him into a hug. Before, Cole would have stayed limp in her arms, unable to understand and process the need for touch. But now he leaned against her, savoring her warmth though his arms still stayed motionless at his sides. "I am fine."

"I don't - so many feelings swirling around me, but they're not just other's, they're mine as well!" He agonized as he clenched his eyes shut, burying his head into her shoulder. "Screaming, whispering, endless - your friend, one of your only friends, help her see because she wont help herself. She saved you, so save her, save her! It's too much, make it stop! Ellana, make it stop!"

"I'm so sorry, Cole," Ellana whispered into his ear, regret tinging her voice as her grip tightened on him. "Creators, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done this to you. But you - you are more human now, you will feel all of these emotions and you will learn to control them. I know you will. You wont hurt anyone, I promise."

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Cullen descending down the steps, and she separated from Cole, carefully watching Cullen's approach until he stood by her side. The glance that he gave her told her that he was expecting a long explanation at some point, but then he refocused on Cole, his gaze piercing. Ellana held a breath as his hand lifted until it clasped the boy's shoulder in comfort. "We will help you, Cole. You'll speak to Varric in the morning."

Cole nodded numbly, glancing between the two beneath the wide brim of his hat before blinking out of sight once again, and Cullen sighed. "Does he realize how unnerving that is?"

Ellana shook her head, staring at the spot that he once stood. "He'll probably lurk around Varric's room until he wakes up and scare the piss out of him."

Cullen managed a snort, imagining the terrified look on the dwarf's face, before he turned somber once again. "Ellana, if he becomes unstable..."

"I will strike him down myself," she replied with no hesitation; but as she looked up at him with a grimace, her face revealed just how little she wished to complete that task. "He would want no less."

As Cullen's arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her into him, Ellana stared down at the flickering torchlight from the tavern below, once again questioning the consequences her decisions had wrought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole is one of my favorite characters. I just want to pinch his cheeks and tell him he's adorable. And give him hugs. So, so many hugs.
> 
> I feel like his transition to being human would be much more difficult than was shown in the game. He's a spirit! It was hard enough for him to realize that killing people to make everything better isn't a solution.
> 
> So this is the 50th chapter of my series. I would just like to say that I did not expect all the kind words and general awesomeness when I first began this story. When I began, I thought "I finished DA:I, Cullen is awesome, I need more Cullen," so I just started writing. This is my first ever fan fiction, and I've never had so much fun writing before :) so thank you, everyone!!!
> 
> SO, now that I've said that, I am going to take a short break from updating. I want to rework some chapters, actually story-board some stuff that is going to happen rather than just writing off the seat of my pants every day. BUT FEAR NOT, I have a ton of ideas that I want to write (I think I have like 20+ chapter ideas already in my backlog). This is just a chance for me to step back and figure out the big picture.
> 
> SEE YOU GUYS IN TWO WEEKS!!!


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